Hide And Seek Out
by Oreobot
Summary: An Autobot training exercise ends in a game of intrigue with the Decepticons.


**Hide and Seek Out**

First published: October 4, 2007

Through the blackness of night, the cold rain poured down. Drops tapped on the hull of Autobot Headquarters with the sound of a thousand miniature, dancing feet. The brightly-lit opening to the wrecked ship shone like a beacon in the dark landscape. Grey beads of water strung across the lip of the ship's tail assembly and dropped carefree onto the golden-orange metal below. A sheet of water ran along the floor of the sloped entrance to the ship and hurried through a grating into a drain.

The deep thrum of a sports car engine purred as it approached the base. Two sets of two round headlamps appeared out of the dark. The vehicle slowed, casting a wide beam of light that swept up over the wet volcanic rock toward the entranceway. The wet metal hull of the base glistened; reflections illuminated the dark blue Corvette as it drew near. Steam gently wafted above the contour of its voluptuous hood as the vehicle paused before the entranceway, its chassis vibrating with the thrum of its engine. A recessed signal beacon blinked on its console, silently acknowledging the coded transmission that marked the end of its sentry shift. The Corvette then rolled forward, careful not to lose traction as its wide tires touched the slippery metal structure of the ship. The pitch of its engine changed as the vehicle shifted into second gear and began its descent down the Ark causeway, leaving a set of muddy tire prints on the smooth, metallic roadway.

Far below, in the belly of the ship, Optimus Prime and his second-in-command, Prowl, stood before an assembly of Autobots in the battle room. The roll call included Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Jazz, Mirage, Huffer, Bumblebee and Trailbreaker. Ironhide worked at Teletraan I behind them, checking and entering codes into the ship's main computer. Optimus Prime surveyed his Autobots while he waited for Tracks, who had just returned from a sentry shift, to join them. Prime had hand-picked the small group to participate in a night-time training exercise. It was important that the Autobots keep their camouflage skills honed. They could not trust their physical disguises alone to keep them safe from discovery. Cunning was also necessary to outwit the enemy.

Prowl placed his hands on his hip plates as they waited, listening to the chimes from Teletraan I as Ironhide made each keystroke. He was about to correct one of Ironhide's faulty entries when Tracks appeared in the doorway. Prowl's optic ridges furrowed at the sight of him. The assembled Autobots looked to one another with wry smiles tugging at their faceplates. The proud, blue Autobot stood dripping wet from head to toe. His shin plating was filthy and his tires were coated in mud. Even the smooth, burnished floor behind him had not been spared. Prowl regarded him sternly.

"Sorry, I couldn't make it sooner," the Corvette excused himself as he joined the end of the line next to Sideswipe. He avoided the embarrassment of optic contact with the others as he directed his apology to Optimus Prime. "I got here as soon as I could."

Sunstreaker's lip components curled in disgust and Sideswipe leaned away from the messy Autobot.

"Whoa, man," Jazz stated emphatically. "You need a wash."

"Tracks," Prime finally said with astonishment, "I know it's been a long shift and we're headed back out again, but you could have taken a few minutes to clean yourself up."

"Ha, ha!" Huffer burst out laughing with both hands over his fuel tank. "That's why he's called Tracks. Get it? He's tracking a mess in here!"

The Autobots looked at one another as Huffer laughed alone. A few reluctant chuckles broke out a moment later. Even Prime had to stifle a laugh.

"Cut it out, Huffer!" Tracks scolded the minibot. "Even covered in mud, I still have more style than you could ever hope for."

"Yeah, well…" Huffer began, but was unable to formulate a quick comeback. The minibot frowned and waved his hand dismissively. "Style's overrated," he muttered sullenly and turned away.

Tracks turned back to Optimus Prime and placed a hand on his chestplate in sincerity. "I was only following orders, Prime. You said to come straight here. You know I wouldn't normally be seen in such an uncivilized condition."

"I know you wouldn't, Tracks," the Autobot leader responded in a sympathetic tone. "Next time, you can clean yourself up first. For now, let's just get on with this evening's business."

"I'll do just that, Prime," Tracks smiled agreeably, glad to be off the hook and with some dignity still intact.

Prowl's optic ridges relaxed upon hearing that the situation was resolved. He confidently looked over the line of Autobots. "Are we ready to begin?" he asked briskly. The assembled Autobots straightened up as Prowl moved to Prime's side.

"Autobots," Prime's voice rang out as he enunciated the syllables of every word, "the exercise tonight is a game of deception. Your objective is to outwit Prowl." Prime briefly regarded the shorter Autobot figures watching him attentively, and his tone softened. "He will be seeking you out in the nearby city of Portland. Don't let him find you."

Prowl pressed his lip components together into a tight grin. He was looking forward to the game of cat and mouse. This kind of training exercise was an interesting challenge for his sophisticated logic center. He would have to deduce something about each one of them in order to determine where to find them. He mused over the idea, noting the pleasant emotional state passing through his mind. He analyzed the feeling and surmised that the exercise would be...fun.

Hearing a pause in Prime's directive, Ironhide glanced back over his shoulder. Sideswipe nudged Sunstreaker. The yellow Lamborghini shot a hard glance at Ironhide before shifting his optics back to Optimus. Little Bumblebee was wedged between Huffer and Jazz, and had drawn himself up in an attempt to appear as tall as possible. Mirage stood poised and calm, his expression unreadable as he took in Prime's orders. Ironhide glanced one last time at Sideswipe before turning his attention back to Teletraan I.

"What happens if Prowl does find us?" Huffer asked at last in his characteristically whiny tone.

"Think of Prowl as a Decepticon, Huffer," Optimus Prime answered.

Sideswipe could not resist making an unsolicited comment. "That shouldn't be hard," he smirked, ribbing his yellow and black brother in the side. Sunstreaker snickered in agreement.

"Take that back, Sideswipe," Prowl ordered him.

Sideswipe looked up at the tall Autobot commander next to Prowl and explained himself. "Sure," he said nonchalantly, "Prowl's _like_ a Decepticon. I get it." He crossed his arms, keeping his optics away from Prowl's caustic gaze.

Ironhide pivoted his torso away from Teletraan's console to face Optimus Prime. "You sure you don't want to leave one of those two here with me?" he asked with an optic on Sideswipe. He cracked the knuckle joints of one hand against the other. "Or how 'bout both of 'em?"

Prime looked down at his trusted security officer and old friend. "It'll be fine, Ironhide." He directed his attention back at the red warrior and glared at him with sternness. "But if there is any further insubordination there will be consequences."

Sideswipe's expression changed to one of muted surprise upon hearing Prime call him out, and he uncrossed his arms. All optics were on him.

"I expect everyone to play by the rules," Prime commanded. There was no negotiating with the statement.

There was a moment of awkward silence until Huffer ended it. "You didn't answer my question, Prime," Huffer reminded him in an annoyed tone. "What happens when Prowl finds us?"

"You mean 'if' he finds you," Bumblebee corrected him.

Huffer's faceplate twitched. He turned to Bumblebee and defended himself. "You knew I meant that. Why did you have to say that?"

"'Cause everyone knows you're a coward, Huffer," Sunstreaker leaned forward and hissed at him. "You'll be the first one found." The yellow warrior narrowed his optics and grinned grimly as he motioned his finger in a cutting arc across his throat manifold.

Huffer gulped. He collected himself and straightened. "At least I don't have a giant, yellow figure to try to hide. I bet you can only hide that in the middle of a bright, sunny day. Ha, ha, ha!"

Sunstreaker pouted. The yellow warrior looked himself over, admiring his own robotic beauty. "My figure's great." It was a shame that the object of the game was to try to _hide_ from someone. He preferred to be out in the open where anyone could see him. And if that _anyone_ was a Decepticon, he'd just pound the slagger into scrap.

"Whoever finds me is going to regret it," he muttered to Sideswipe.

Prowl sighed and glanced sidelong at Optimus Prime.

"But bro'," Sideswipe responded with mock hurt in his vocalizer, "what if _I'm_ the one who finds you? Would I regret it? Would you _hurt_ me?" They burst into a fit of giggling.

"Jeez," Jazz spoke aloud to himself. "If they're gonna yak like that they'll _both_ be found."

"What would happen to me, Sunny?" Sideswipe continued theatrically. "Ha, ha, _ha!_"

Sunstreaker howled with laughter. "You sound just like Huffer!"

Huffer's optics flashed as he turned to face Sunstreaker. "Why you big, stupid…"

"Autobots," Prime declared sternly, "that is enough!" The room abruptly fell silent. Huffer scurried back to his place in the line. The Lamborghini twins snapped to attention as Ironhide came striding across the room.

"Just give the word, Prime," he growled, "and I'll set those two right."

"Thank you, Ironhide," said Prime, "but I think it won't be necessary."

Ironhide glared at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker for a moment then looked back to Optimus Prime. "Just let me know if you change your mind, Optimus. Until then I'll be finishing up with ol' Teletraan," he drawled as he headed back to the console.

Prime turned and levelled his gaze at the red warrior before continuing. "The first rule of the game is communicator silence, Sideswipe. There is to be no collaboration or information-sharing. This exercise is about individual skill."

Prowl nodded in agreement. "You never know when you might end up alone against a Decepticon threat," the strategist explained.

"The second rule is that only Ironhide here and Teletraan I will know where any of you are until the game is over," Prime stated, "and the game ends at dawn. Ironhide has keyed in your energy signatures so that Teletraan I will track you."

Ironhide gave Prime the thumbs up that all the energy signatures were already entered. "Tracking will be online any minute," he confirmed.

"Prowl won't have any access to that information?" Bumblebee double-checked.

"The radio silence rule applies to me as well, Bumblebee," Prowl replied.

"So, then, why bother tracking us?" the yellow minibot inquired.

"I want to analyze the outcome once the exercise is over," Prowl explained. "To check your location against where I thought you would be and refine my strategy for a future assignment."

"The third rule is you may not involve any humans in your disguise," Prime added and glanced at Bumblebee, "particularly not Spike or Sparkplug."

"So no asking someone to hide you," Jazz interpreted.

"Exactly," Prowl answered.

"I picked tonight for this exercise specifically because the conditions are not pleasant to humans," Prime explained. "That should limit any potential involvement or interaction with the human population."

"What about our special abilities?" Mirage asked courteously. "Are there any rules that would prevent me from using my electro-disruptor?"

"No, Mirage, you may use your electro-disruptor if you think you need to," Prime stated, holding up his index finger mindfully. "But you'll have to chose carefully when to use it."

Mirage grinned slyly and bowed. "That's my specialty."

"There's one final rule, everyone," Prime said, cocking his head to one side. "You must stay inside the perimeter of the game area. Ironhide," the Autobot leader signalled his security officer to bring up the city map on Teletraan I's main screen. An image of the city appeared with an illuminated green area overlaid to show the game boundaries.

"Hmm," Jazz cupped his chin in one hand as he pondered possible hiding locations. "It's mostly all commercial and industrial."

"Which prevents us from just parking in someone's driveway all night and risking the odds that Prowl wouldn't find us," Trailbreaker surmised.

"True," Prime responded thoughtfully.

"Optimus," Huffer agitated, "what about my question from before? What happens if we're found?"

"If Prowl does happen to find you," Prime explained, glancing over at his strategist, "then you're out of the game. Head back to base and wait here until the others arrive after dawn."

"And no tellin' Prowl where anyone else is, if you happen to know," Jazz added.

Prime chuckled. "Of course, Jazz. That would be cheating."

"No need to worry," the strategist reassured the others. "If I receive any information about your location, I will cease searching for you as it would be unproductive."

"I'm going to be too busy looking for my own hiding spot to worry about where anyone else is," Bumblebee announced.

"What about you, Prime?" Trailbreaker asked. "Where will you be during all of this?"

"Good question, Trailbreaker," the Autobot leader acknowledged. "I'll be in the city, observing. I won't be silencing my communicator, though." He looked amongst his Autobots, satisfied that they were ready. "It's time that the training exercise began. I've covered the rules and I wish all of you the best of luck."

Prime adjusted his stance and looked straight ahead. The Autobot assembly recognized him tensing his servos the way he always did when he was preparing to transform. He did not disappoint them.

"Autobots, transform!" Optimus Prime ordered. A moment later, his familiar semi truck mode emerged from a blur of servomechanism activity. His trailer slipped out of subspace and connected to its towing hitch, completing his disguise.

One by one, the Autobots followed his lead. Jazz leapt onto his hands in a stylish move resembling break dancing. His upraised legs transformed into the back end of a Porsche 935 and then, as the rear wheels dropped to the floor, his arms folded up underneath the car hood that doubled as his chest. A white sports car sat ready.

Bumblebee's arms shortened and pulled into his sides. His torso shrunk down over his yellow Volkswagen bug feet as he took on his vehicle form. The others transformed in quick succession like a line of toppling dominos. Huffer transformed into his mini hauler cab form, Trailbreaker into a black-canopied Toyota Hilux truck, Mirage into a Ford Formula One racer, and Sunstreaker into an immaculate yellow Lamborghini Countach.

Sideswipe paused and turned to look at Tracks beside him. "Careful not to flick any of that on me," he warned the muddy warrior before transforming himself into a red Lamborghini Countach to match his yellow brother.

"No need to be testy, Sideswipe," Tracks retorted. He considered dropping his back tires with enough force to squeeze out some mud onto Sideswipe's perfect finish – just to spite the red warrior – but changed his mind. As his torso transformed into the back half of a Corvette Stingray, he skilfully pivoted his midsection to move the halves of the car hood into position. The last interlocking mechanisms shifted into place, and the blue sports car came to rest beside the red Lamborghini. Not a drop of water or grit had landed on Sideswipe.

"What, no thanks?" prodded Tracks.

Sideswipe revved his engine vigorously. "I shouldn't even have to ask," he retorted.

The Autobot leader turned hard to the left and rolled forward, stopping in front of the assembled line of vehicles. Only Prowl and Ironhide remained in their robot forms. The waiting Autobots started their engines.

"You will have a one-hour head start before Prowl leaves the base," the red semi cab spoke. Prime's engine chugged to life. "Autobots, roll out!"

As the others departed, Prowl turned to Ironhide with one open hand. "You know any good card games?"

***

Optimus Prime led the small convoy of eight Autobots as they headed out of the base.

"Prime," Jazz radioed the Autobot leader through his vehicle intercom. "Permission requested to hightail it out of here."

He supposed it was only fair to let the others take off to their hiding locations as they saw fit. That was the purpose of the exercise. "Permission granted," Prime's intercom light bank responded in sync with his radio response.

The other Autobots also heard the answer. A second later, Jazz, the Lamborghini twins, Tracks and Mirage flew past Prime on either side and disappeared through the curtain of rain into the night.

"Hey!" Huffer complained loudly from behind Prime. "That's no fair! They're getting a huge advantage."

Trailbreaker, the slowest of the lot, radioed him in response from the back of the convoy. "We have to work with what we've got, Huffer."

"Prowl will know that they have speed on their side," Prime added. "He'll take that into consideration."

The entranceway grew larger and the blackness of night quickly approached. Bumblebee gave his engine some extra juice but he struggled to pull up closer to Huffer, who was already going flat out behind Optimus Prime. "Let's just hurry to Portland!"

Moments later, the remaining convoy emerged from Autobot Headquarters. Rain slapped their metallic bodies in a fury and mud squished through their tire grooves, but they did not slow. Bumblebee and Trailbreaker immediately turned on their windshield wipers to their highest settings to manage the spray from the angel wings of mist that materialized behind Prime and Huffer.

A low growl accompanied the appearance of the Autobots from their base, but it was not the sound of thunder in the distance. The sound belonged to a pair of glowing red optics. Something black hopped down from one of the base's air vents. It gripped an object in its mouth. The creature bounded down the slippery rock surfaces with ease and stopped a short distance from the entranceway. Through a sheet of rain, the soft glow of light from the base bathed over the creature, revealing the distinct features of the Decepticon cat.

Ravage set down the small blue and silver cassette recorder he was carrying in his mouth, and stepped back. It was his master. Soundwave immediately transformed into robot form. A pale aura glowed briefly around the Decepticon spy's form as he regained his true size, towering over his loyal pet. Soundwave gazed off in the direction of the Autobots then looked down at his metallic panther. The small, black Decepticon cat growled with satisfaction at having completed his job.

"Mission complete," acknowledged the large Decepticon communicator. Soundwave's characteristic, droning monotone reverberated through the night air. His hand hovered momentarily over the eject button next to his shoulder before he depressed it with his index finger. The cassette door in his chest slid open. "Ravage, return," he intoned. At his master's command, Ravage jumped into the air and transformed into a large, black cassette; his leaping arc carried him smoothly into the waiting compartment. Soundwave clicked the cassette door closed, sealing Ravage inside.

The large silver and blue Decepticon leapt skyward as his leg thrusters silently activated, carrying him into the brooding clouds overhead. All the pieces were now in place. His latest scheme would soon come to fruition. His army would grow.

***

As Optimus Prime led Huffer, Bumblebee, and Trailbreaker off the Interstate and into the city, Huffer checked his chronometer. The drive had taken them forty-five minutes. Despite the light traffic at that late time of night, and the fact that they had hurried, they had only managed to shave fifteen minutes off the commute time due to the slick conditions. Now only fifteen minutes remained before Prowl would leave the base to come and find them.

Optimus Prime pulled into the slow lane to let the others pass. Anticipating their leader's move, Bumblebee pulled out into the fast lane first, followed by Trailbreaker. They hurried past him and off into the game area. Huffer followed.

As Optimus watched them go, he made a mental note to reinforce the importance of abiding by the local speed laws. But it was too late to say anything now. _Next time_, he thought as he lumbered down the road. He still had to consider where he would make his rounds during the exercise.

***

Scattered across the play area, the five quickest Autobots were hurrying to locate suitable hiding locations.

The Lamborghinis rolled up to a locked, fenced yard surrounding a sports car dealership. The dealership building and the surrounding businesses were dark and quiet except for the overhead lamps that illuminated the car lot.

"I can't believe how awful I look," Sunstreaker complained aloud to his brother. "This brown mud looks terrible on yellow. And those filthy human roads! There's an oil film all over me. It's going to take forever to clean off."

Sideswipe was more concerned with finding a place where Prowl would not find them. They had driven to several dealerships around the city before deciding on this one; the cars here were of a shape similar to their own. He dismissed his brother's concerns. "The rain'll wash it off in no time."

Sideswipe transformed from a red Lamborghini into his robot form. His movement triggered a motion sensor – he was directly in front of the gate – and the building's security lighting turned on. He froze, scanning the area for guard dogs or an alarm – anything that would make a noise and alert someone to their presence – but saw nothing.

He inspected the lock on the gate, but knew he could not break it off without telegraphing the evidence to Prowl. They could not afford to be found on the dealership premises – Prime had made it clear that private property was off-limits. So he walked confidently into the street, turned, and took a run at the gate. Jumping over it at the last possible moment, he landed with a resounding crash inside the yard.

"Nice one, bro'," Sunstreaker chided him, "you trying to wake up the whole city?" He transformed from vehicle to robot form and, clenching his fists, readied himself to copy his brother's manoeuvre. "Let me show you how a pro does it."

In a move of striking agility and grace, Sunstreaker vaulted over the gate, lightly touching his hands on its top bar without damaging it, and came to rest lightly on one foot first, then the other. He then straightened with his hands held up high like an Olympian and turned back to give his brother a cheeky smile.

Sideswipe looked down at his feet, which had pressed into the asphalt under his weight when he had landed. With disdain, he stepped out of his footprints. Sunstreaker scoffed at his twin. "You wrecked our hiding spot, you scraphead! Do you think Prowl won't notice your footprints?"

"Slag!" Sideswipe cursed and looked around. He eyed one of the nearby sports cars. "We'll just cover them up. Help me move that car." He moved to the front of the car and curled his fingers under its front end, waiting for Sunstreaker to pick it up its back end.

"You're still an idiot," Sunstreaker scowled at him as he placed each hand under the rear end of its chassis.

"Shut up and help me," Sideswipe shot back.

Together, they lifted the sports car as if it were merely a piece of furniture and placed it over the footprint impressions to hide them. Sideswipe dusted his hands together as they straightened up, satisfied that their cover would not be blown.

Sunstreaker looked back at the place where the car had been. "What about that?" he asked Sideswipe, hooking his thumb over at the dry area of pavement.

His twin swatted the air, ignoring his brother's concern, and started toward the back of the lot. Rain showered over both Autobots. "It'll be wet by the time Prowl comes nosing around. Now, come on."

"Prowl will never come back here," Sunstreaker chuckled as they went behind the service bay, "'cause it would be breaking in."

Sideswipe flinched. "Sunny, we're not breaking in," he said and pointed to the dealership building. "If we went in there, then that would be breaking in. But we're not, so we're okay. We haven't technically broken any rules."

"Then how about conspiring together?" Sunstreaker asked. He still was not clear about why Sideswipe wanted them to stick together, and would have been content to hide separately so that he alone could win.

"It's a minor infraction," Sideswipe excused himself reluctantly. He knew he was really bending that rule. "But... okay, so Prowl says split up, right? That means he's not _expecting_ us to be together." A Cheshire grin spread across the red warrior's lip components. "And if he did _happen_ to find us, we'll just say that we both thought of the same hiding spot."

Sunstreaker started to get Sideswipe's plan. The yellow warrior crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not about to leave this one."

Sideswipe laughed. "He's not going to find us, anyways, so he'll never know." Looking around, he spied a sheltered area where the staff at the dealership washed and cleaned the show cars. Two cars with vehicle covers sat under the sheltered canopy. "_Aha!_"

Sunstreaker perked up and uncrossed his arms. "Perfect! Let's move those and take their place."

"And their covers," Sideswipe added with enthusiasm.

They quickly removed the vehicle covers and moved the two cars out into the rain, then went about the task of concealing themselves in the back lot of the dealership.

***

On the other side of the river, Tracks backed cautiously into the parking space where he had decided to conceal himself.

The blue Corvette could not bring himself to choose a hiding spot in the city's industrial district. Hiding himself there was too low class, and he was not of that calibre. Maybe if the game had been more than just a training exercise – with real Decepticons hunting him – it would be a different matter. But that was not the case.

His rear tires bumped against the curb behind him. Tracks braked and shut off his engine. The rain was coming down in sheets. It was definitely not a good night for anyone – man or machine – to be outside. With his engine stilled, he could hear the endless pattering of rain but, despite his scanners and low lighting sensors, it was nearly invisible in the dreary night. The rain danced over his curving surfaces.

He was in the middle of a nature park. A nearby community center was huddled next to a wide lawn, its few external lights shining warmly from across the parking lot. The surrounding area was thick with trees, and very dark. It was an unlikely place to be disturbed. Two other cars were parked under the bright glow of a single, working lamp standard. There was another lamp, too – but it shone faintly and flickered intermittently.

Tracks sat in the parking space at the end of the back row, where it was secluded. He noted with interest that even though the blinds were closed, some lights were still on inside the community center. He gazed at the windows and wondered who might be there so late at night. Eventually his interest dwindled and his attention wandered over to the gardens beyond the building.

He would have much preferred to hide himself in the Washington Park rose gardens, even though it was November and the flower beds would be filled with nothing more than thorny stumps. The large park contained a myriad of criss-crossing roads and plenty of places where he could pull off to the side for the night. And to top it off, the park was in a good area and the surrounding neighbourhoods were filled with Tracks' kind of people. He belonged in an area where humans could afford his type of vehicle mode. Unfortunately, Washington Park and its nearby neighbourhoods were outside of the designated game area.

Tracks wondered whether Prowl had made a point to exclude the park or not. He might have picked the bounds several days earlier and scoped out all of the possible hiding places. If he had done that, it would make it next to impossible for anyone to stay hidden in one place for the entire night. He considered what he might do if he saw Prowl's headlights approaching through the trees along the nature park road. For now, though, Tracks decided to stay put where he was. There was no reason to go anywhere else.

***

For Mirage, hiding was a particular challenge. His alternate mode, a race car, was a difficult thing to conceal. The Portland International Speedway was about the only place where his alternate mode blended in, but it was not inside the boundary that Optimus had shown them on Teletraan I. Another natural disguise did occur to him: he could find a flatbed truck or an open trailer and pretend to be a car in transit. But that was too obvious. Prowl would find him with ease. He needed something solid between himself and Prowl's prying optics; his vehicle form would be a dead giveaway if he was spotted out in the open. Where was he to find a suitable place indoors? He was stumped. According to the rules, he could not ask a human to hide him. That meant he was not allowed to arrange for building access, either.

He needed to do something that Prowl would not expect. Mirage drove slowly down a desolate downtown street toward the city center as he thought. In the pouring rain at that late hour, no one was around to see the strange sight of a blue and white Formula One racer cruising down Portland's streets.

Mirage knew he could not render himself invisible for the entire night. His electro-disruptor could only be used for a short period of time because of its high energy draw. Unless he could spot Prowl before Prowl saw him – the cue for him to disappear – he would likely be caught unawares. Mirage passed through one city block after another, losing hope that he would find a suitable hiding place.

He slowed for an amber light and stopped at the line just as it turned red. There was no cross traffic. It seemed odd that the light would trigger to stop him. He sat at the line as the rain drove down. He had closed the canopy over his driver's cockpit to prevent his interior from getting wet. The light turned green again, and Mirage started toward the city center. Maybe there was a sheltered hiding place near the coliseum.

As Mirage drove into the Rose Quarter, he noticed humans out in the inclement weather. They took notice of him, too. The blue and white racer was accustomed to receiving inquisitive looks and seeing fingers point. These were the common folk of Earth, after all. As on Cybertron, these people were not used to seeing someone of his status amongst them. He ignored them and drove on. There was an event taking place that night at the coliseum; a large group of young humans were congregating around it.

"Well, there goes that idea," Mirage said aloud as he came upon the large, rounded building. Humans milled around the entranceways in droves. There must have been thousands of people there. An electric sign flashed next to the building, loudly advertising the name of the event. "Guns N' Roses," Mirage read the words as they streamed from right to left, "Playing Tonight!"

Someone in the crowd shouted and several dozen people turned around to gawk as he passed. As a group of youths pulled away from the throng of people and headed toward him, Mirage caught a glimpse of a familiar white Porsche tucked away in a lane beside the coliseum. These people attending concert had been concealing Jazz without knowing it.

Mirage shifted a gear and sped up. He was not going to locate himself in the vicinity of Jazz, especially if Jazz had happened to see him. He travelled several blocks away from the coliseum and further into the city, then slowed as he realized that he was near the boundary of the game area. He turned a corner into a narrow alley and checked to ensure that he was alone before transforming.

The rainfall promptly assaulted him and he hunched his shoulder joints against the heat loss. He would not have much reserve power for his electro-disruptor under these conditions. The cold liquid pounded on his head. Mirage tried to relax his servos in spite of the crummy Earth weather.

"It looks like I'll have to stay on the move if I don't want to be caught," he said to himself.

In robot form, Mirage was not overly concerned about his cover. There was another game at which he excelled. He looked either way then snuck off into the shadows. He felt his old hunting skills returning. _Even Prowl is not as wily as an 8-vorn turbofox_, he chuckled as he recalled his old knack for concealing himself from his Cybertronian quarry.

***

The hour was up and Prowl folded his electronic hand of cards.

"It looks like you win, Ironhide," the strategist proclaimed, rubbing the back of his head. He saw a strategy he wished he could have played out, but it was time to leave.

Ironhide chortled. "Ain't the first time I heard someone say that," the veteran leaned back in his chair, grinning amicably.

"Maybe we can have another game later," Prowl suggested as he pondered over his memorization of Ironhide's card plays.

"Anytime I'm on security watch," the red and grey Autobot stated.

Prowl thanked him for the game. Then, as he turned away from Ironhide, he transformed. The black and white strategist's body pivoted, his legs compacted together and his arms neatly folded under his torso as it drew up to conceal his head. He came to rest on the golden-orange floor as a Datsun Fairlady patrol car.

"Later, Prowl, 'ol buddy," he waved as Prowl drove off.

Prowl drove through the rainy night toward the city, mindful of the fact that it was difficult to see wildlife in such poor visibility. He travelled without incident through the forest toward the junction where the roads to human civilization began. Once he left the secluded valley behind him, the aura from the city lights glowed on the horizon. He took the usual route and quickly joined the highway leading into Portland.

Within a short period of time, the cityscape emerged ahead of him. He drove through the outlaying areas of the city as buildings of progressively greater size sprung up around him. He arrived at length in the heart of city's downtown core.

He slowed to cruising speed and scanned his surroundings on both sides. The hunt had begun.

***

The rain-soaked ground yielded easily under his weight as Soundwave came to a soft landing under the cover of darkness behind an outdoor theater in the nature park. He peered past the edge of the wooden structure. In the distance lay the hibernating rose gardens and the lighted community center. He had followed Tracks by air from Autobot Headquarters, quietly watching his every move. Now the unsuspecting Autobot sat parked in the lot beyond the building. It was a perfectly isolated location.

He did not want to startle the Autobot and engage him in a firefight. The objective was to employ the element of surprise and overwhelm him. Then the Autobot would have no choice but to entertain his business proposition. He was eager to close a deal that night.

The Decepticon communicator depressed the silvery button next to his shoulder. "Ravage, Rumble, Frenzy," he ordered his cassetticon minions by name. "Eject." Soundwave's cassette cover sprung open and each in turn catapulted out of his chest chamber, transforming mid-air into robot mode. They gathered obediently around him, awaiting orders.

Soundwave was not going to take any chances with Autobot Tracks. Although he was larger than Tracks, Soundwave was not confident that his size and presence alone would be enough to subdue the Autobot. He needed reinforcements. Soundwave pointed in the direction where Tracks sat parked, unaware of his presence, and commanded his cassetticon warriors.

"Surround the Autobot. Employ stealth," the communicator droned to his minions through the pouring rain. "Operation: blackmail. Do not let him escape."

Ravage could barely contain himself and growled in breaths. He was eager to obey Soundwave. Frenzy and Rumble exchanged looks with one another. They did not know the details of Soundwave's plan, but the broad strokes were apparent. They had been through this type of interception before.

Frenzy grabbed both guns from their mountings on his back and hoisted them up high in a show of aggression. "No problem, Soundwave," the black and red cassetticon warrior announced. "I'll take him down on my own."

Rumble shoved Frenzy, throwing him off balance. "He said blackmail, not annihilation," Rumble spat at him through gritted dental plates.

Frenzy came back at him with a vengeance, hurling himself at Rumble. Both cassetticons tumbled to the ground with a crash of metal on metal. Frenzy immediately went for Rumble's throat manifold.

"Cease fighting," Soundwave ordered them in monotone, picking Frenzy's small form off of Rumble and setting him down beside Ravage. The panther hissed at Frenzy.

Rumble leaned up on one elbow joint and rubbed his dented throat manifold as he glared at Frenzy. "What was that for?" Rumble insisted.

Frenzy cackled and smiled crazily. "For fun," he giggled.

Rumble got up, noticing that his back side was covered in wet dirt and grass. "You nutcase!" he scolded Frenzy.

Just then, Ravage stood up tall and stared off in the direction of the community center. Soundwave's highly sensitive audio receptors also picked up on the noise. It was the sound of rowdy human voices. As the four Decepticons looked across the gardens to see what was happening, their red optics glowed like coals in the night.

***

The lights inside the community center had been switched off and a group of teens was loitering on the sidewalk next to the parking lot. Two of them hauled the backs of their jackets up over their heads to cover themselves from the rain and hurried off along one of the trails into the bush. The other four congregated together under the lamp standard, talking loudly and joking with one another.

Tracks watched the youths carefully. An adult human had come out of the building with them, said goodbye and then left in his car. After he had left, the kids had started to get noisy. He wondered why on Earth they would want to stand around in the pouring rain at night when they could go somewhere else – somewhere away from him.

The Corvette had had trouble with kids like these before. In fact, it happened more often than Tracks cared to admit. His stunning vehicle mode was unreasonably attractive to some humans; he was the target of frequent vandalism and theft attempts.

Tracks gazed at the backs of the youths and watched as they jostled and ribbed one another. Then he heard the jingling of metal; one of the kids pulled a keychain out of his pocket and unlocked the other car in the lot.

"Thank goodness," Tracks spoke too quietly for any of them to hear him. He eagerly waited for them to get into their car and leave. As he watched through his sensors, three of them did in fact slip into the other car. But the kid with the keychain – the driver – suddenly turned around and looked back at Tracks.

"Rats!" Tracks cursed. "Don't look at me. You kids have to get home. It's getting late."

"Hey guys," the youth said to his friends in the car, "that's one sweet ride over there, huh?"

The other three were already lounging inside the car, waiting to leave.

"Forget it Eddy, let's go man!" the one in the front seat called back as he tapped the dashboard impatiently.

"Just a sec, I gotta check it out. I bet it's tricked out and everything!" He started across the lot toward Tracks.

"Big deal man," complained one of the kids in the back. "It's getting late, dude."

Eddy ignored him and continued right on up to Tracks. He reached out an expectant hand and wiped the rain water off the curving body panel over the Corvette's front wheel. He eyed the red and yellow flames on the hood. He wanted a car like that. Then, in the dim light, he made out the shape of the Autobot symbol emblazoned in the middle of the flames.

"Hey guys!" Eddy exclaimed, hurriedly motioning to his friends. "You'll never believe this! Get over here, pronto!"

"What is it now?" one of them moaned. He slouched out of the car and trudged across the lot with hunched shoulders.

"This is an Autobot!" Eddy yelled excitedly. "You know, like those robots on TV!"

"No way!" The last two kids scrambled over top of each other to get out of the car. They jogged across the lot to see for themselves.

_Uh-oh_, Tracks thought to himself, _my cover's blown_. He mustered up his best serious voice and addressed the two boys next to him. "Look, guys," Tracks said firmly. "This is getting too close for my comfort. Do you mind stepping away from me?" He was sure that they would be all over him in an instant if he did not put his foot down.

Both youths glanced at one another, dumbstruck. "_Whoa!_" they breathed in unison.

As the last two boys hurried over to see Tracks for themselves, something lurking in the darkness caught their attention. They stopped abruptly and stared with wide eyes.

"Look!" one of them yelled.

"What is that?" another asked in a wavering voice.

"Huh?" Eddy turned away from Tracks to see what the others were looking at and gasped. Glowing red lights were moving toward them through the shadows near the community center. Eerily, they seemed to float at different heights above the ground.

"What are those?"

"Who cares?" Eddy responded fearfully, "Let's get out the hell out of here!"

Tracks knew the glowing red lights could only be one thing.

As all four boys turned tail and fled to their car, Tracks transformed into robot mode. He finished his transformation sequence kneeling on one knee and steadied himself with one hand on the pavement to avoid standing up into the trees overhead.

Arms and legs were still hanging out of the open passenger doors as the car quickly pulled out of the parking lot. The car paused briefly, for no apparent reason. Then, amidst much shouting and excitement, it raced out of the parking lot, tore along the wooded roadway, and vanished from sight.

Tracks pulled his beam gun from its subspace compartment, gripping it tightly and gritting his dental plates as he squinted into the darkness. For a moment he doubted his conclusion as to the source of the lights – and he hesitated from firing – until the boxy shape of Soundwave stepped forward into the wash of the lamp standard. Tracks quickly squeezed off a shot from his blinding black beam gun, but Soundwave dodged it. The Decepticon communicator returned fire, striking Tracks with a paralyzing wave of static from his concussion blaster. The effect of the hit coursed through Tracks' circuits, forcing him into a defensive ball as his servos seized. He was disabled long enough for Soundwave and his three cassetticons to surround him.

"Disarm him," Soundwave ordered, pointing at the immobilized Autobot.

Rumble walked up and easily lifted the gun out of Tracks' hand. The weapon was huge in comparison to the small, blue cassetticon. He returned to Soundwave and discarded it on the lawn behind his master.

Ravage growled menacingly as he stalked around Tracks like a predatory shark. Tracks winced as his circuits discharged the excess static and he regained control of his motor functions. Some of his systems still buzzed from the disruptive charge, but he would manage. As he slowly stood up, the guns trained on him followed his movement.

The Decepticons had him. They had caught him by surprise and could have blasted him full of holes, but he still lived.

"What do you want?" Tracks demanded to know.

Ravage snarled in response. Tracks' head snapped over to the cat, expecting him to attack at any instant. But Ravage looked over at Soundwave, then sat back on his haunches and swatted his metal tail on the pavement.

"Listen," Soundwave commanded Tracks. He started his audio playback mechanism. Through the transparent cassette door in his chest, Laserbeak's cassette spokes turned and a recording began to play through Soundwave's speakers for all to hear.

An incomprehensible cacophony of noise broadcast through the dreary night. Confused by it, Tracks glanced over at Rumble and Frenzy. In response, Frenzy cocked his guns. Rumble grimaced and jabbed the muzzles of his weapons at the Autobot. Tracks froze and raised his palms defensively.

In the background of the recording, the soft clinking of Laserbeak's metallic feet could be heard as the Decepticon bird moved along a metallic surface to get closer to the subject of his surveillance.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tracks protested, perturbed that he was being detained to listen to the nonsensical barrage of sounds.

"Behold," Soundwave began, then his metallic vocalizer shifted to a sinister lower pitch, "your undoing."

Laserbeak's recording continued playing. The noise resolved into the brief sounds of metal clattering and banging. A sinister laugh rolled out of the vocalizer but was abruptly interrupted by the discharge of a weapon. A moment later, something dropped to the floor with a loud clang. "That takes care of that," another voice said with a sneer.

Tracks stared at the two turning cassette wheels inside Soundwave's torso and listened. Multiple footsteps echoed and then stopped. Familiar memories returned as he recognized the events playing out on the tape. Tracks placed his hand over his throat manifold as he listened to the grating sound of metal being dragged away. "That'll be four hundred credits plus one hundred for your reluctance," someone spat. "Pay up!"

Tracks clenched his jaw mechanism. Soundwave's red optic band stared at him through the night with a damning gaze. They both knew what came next on the tape. Tracks closed his optics in shame as the recording continued. It had been so long ago – and so far away.

"I- I'll pay you," Tracks heard himself stammer in protest. "Please don't hurt me."

There was indistinct mumbling on the recording, but Tracks remembered all too well what he had done then. He had counted out five hundred energon credits for the Decepticons – protection money with interest.

"Money's no issue," Tracks had assured them as he handed over the fee. "Please, I don't want any more trouble."

"Of course you don't," the squadron leader had gloated. "Just keep up those payments and nobody else gets hurt."

Tracks heard his voice reply without hesitation. "I have no problem paying you a fair price. But please, at these rates you're going to ruin me!"

The squad leader had leaned forward at that moment and spoken to him through clenched dental plates. "Well then you better push your workers a bit harder to boost those profits. The rates _will_ go up. And you just lost another employee. By the way, it'll be six hundred credits next time."

"_Six_ hundred!?"

"You know, I really don't want to have to shut down your operations, Tracks."

"Your payment will be ready on time," Tracks had mumbled, "I promise."

The Decepticons laughed heartily. Their voices boomed through the park, drowned out only by the persistent rainfall.

"Enough," Tracks called out to end the embarrassing broadcast.

The tape stopped playing and Soundwave's metallic vocalizer chuckled softly at him. "There is more evidence of your betrayal," he droned.

Tracks felt his fuel lines constrict as he stared at the ground. It was true, and there were many more instances like it. Some contained even more shameful details. He knew that he should have abandoned his business holdings when the Decepticon extortion squads took over the manufacturing district, but he had always hoped the problem would simply go away. It never did. There was no telling how many of his transactions had been recorded.

In the end, the Decepticons had turned on him, stolen his wealth and holdings, and left him destitute. By the time his workers finally fled in terror he had handed over nearly eighty thousand credits to the enemy. This sum did not even include a final "mercy fee" payment of thirteen thousand credits from his own personal reserves – the payment that had spared his life after his financial collapse. Powerless and penniless, Tracks had nowhere else to turn but Optimus Prime and the Autobot resistance.

But his past was his dark secret, and his alone. He told no one about it, not even Mirage. Of course at the time he felt his actions were justified – what else could he have done? But now he wished he had just walked away from it all. He wished he had never been a major financial backer of the Decepticons. The end would have been the same, but without the pain and the guilt. He could not risk losing control of such damning information. It was his burden to bear. He could not face being exposed to the Autobots as a traitor. He knew he would lose all face and be banished from their ranks. Then he would be isolated, stuck on an alien world with no friends and no way back to Cybertron. He would roam the Earth until his last drop of fuel was spent and he expired from energy deprivation. _He could not afford to let that happen!_

"What makes you think a lousy, old recording like that is going to convince anyone of anything?" he retorted fiercely. "Prime would never believe a lying Decepticon!"

Rumble looked up at Soundwave with interest, wondering how he would respond to the statement. Tracks did have a point.

"Data never lies," the communicator leaned forward as he droned in monotone. A compartment in one of his forearms opened and from it he produced an artifact for Tracks to see.

It was Tracks' Cybertronian signature key, the access device that he had used to go everywhere back on Cybertron. It belonged to him and him alone, and was linked to his energy signature like DNA to a biological organism. Every time he had used the key, it logged where he had been, and when. From time to time, he had used the key to enter clandestine Decepticon offices. He had met with Decepticon bureaucrats on many occasions – usually to offer up bribes in exchange for more lenient protection fees. The ploy had worked for a long, long time – until a mysterious senior official got wind of his manipulations. The signature key had been lost – and destroyed, he presumed – when the Decepticons raided his home and evicted him.

Tracks gasped with wide optics, and looked intently at Soundwave. He puzzled over the possibilities, not sure which one made the most sense. But the pieces were slowly falling into place. "Laserbeak! It was Laserbeak – you set me up and he stole it!" He had no idea that the Decepticons would go to such lengths to utterly ruin him. Back on Cybertron, he had not known of either Soundwave or Laserbeak then. His shoulders sagged.

Rumble addressed him coolly. "Back on Cybertron," he bragged, "Soundwave sourced out Decepticon funding. He financed Megatron's bid for leadership. And _you_ were filthy rich." He stuck his guns right under Tracks' nose. "So maybe you can see how it all fits together now."

Tracks grabbed at the ornamentation on the forehead of his helmet and begged his case. "You can't do this to me! You can't! I demand it!"

But Soundwave was the master of the situation. With a sinister laugh, he clenched the key tightly in his hand and pulled it close to himself for safekeeping.

Ravage got up off his haunches and tensed his servos as Tracks railed. Frenzy and Rumble backed away in case he tried to make a break for it.

"There is a way for you to save yourself," the Decepticon communicator droned in lowering pitches. "You would not have to face the consequences of your past."

He had Tracks' full attention. "Tell me. Just tell me what it is."

"Submit to my command," Soundwave declared in a triumphant but terrifyingly cold monotone. He stood tall with his thumb pointed back at himself.

"What?" Tracks cried. "Never!"

Soundwave continued, unfazed by Tracks' emotional dilemma. "Join me. I will protect you from the Decepticons...and the Autobots." He pointed a damning finger at Tracks. "You will not survive in your current form."

The rectangular cassette window in Soundwave's torso lit up. A pale green glow washed over the metal figure before him and illuminated the falling rain as it peppered the asphalt in front of Tracks. His expression was frozen in disgust. Soundwave's screen displayed an image of a new cassetticon warrior.

"I will remake you," Soundwave stated confidently. With his chin tipped up, the large Decepticon gazed down at Tracks with an air of superiority. "It is the logical option."

Soundwave must have planned this well in advance. The technical details were displayed next to the image of the new robot body. For all Tracks new, it had already been built and was one spark core short of being brought to life.

His optics darted down to the small black and red cassetticon warrior. Frenzy smirked back at him. Tracks quickly looked away, and fixed his optics on Rumble. The small blue warrior seemed nonchalant about the whole affair. "It ain't so bad," Rumble confided. "Soundwave does a good job of takin' care of us. All I gotta worry about anymore is Megatron. Right now, you've gotta worry about Megatron, the Decepticons, and now all the Autobots, too. Joining Soundwave's a smart move."

Tracks was appalled. Soundwave's cassetticons were all corrupted warriors – possibly even former Autobots. Soundwave must have blackmailed them into his servitude – one by one. Decepticon loyalty had its price.

Ravage growled lowly at Tracks, who was balking at Soundwave's offer. Tracks spun around to face the cat and ended up staring into the triangular red optics of the evil beast. He could not help but wonder what – or who – the cat had once been.

"Hey, what's it gonna be?" Frenzy demanded loudly. "My trigger finger's gettin' itchy."

The sudden snap of tree branch breaking away in the blackness behind Soundwave caught Tracks and the Decepticons off guard. Soundwave spun with a start to see the optics of three other Decepticons approaching.

Tracks saw his moment to flee. But within two quick servo strokes, Ravage was on him. The cat's surprise attack threw him to the ground, cuing Frenzy to go ballistic. In an outburst of unrestrained violence, Frenzy opened fire on Tracks. Laser blasts plowed through the Autobot's Corvette panelling until Rumble finally stopped him with a tackle.

Tracks lay motionless, face down on the asphalt. "Don't kill 'im!" Rumble scolded. Frenzy picked himself up and collected the guns which had scattered when he fell.

"Well, well," breathed the familiar raspy vocalizer of the head Constructicon, "what do we have here?"

The shapes of three Constructicons emerged from the cover of darkness, illuminated by the red glow of their optics. Scrapper was flanked by Bonecrusher and Scavenger. Soundwave was surprised that he did not sense their presence in the vicinity. He tensed, knowing that they had been listening in on his affairs.

"It looks like we've caught Soundwave with his hand in the cassetticon jar," Bonecrusher observed.

"Yeah, he's bootlegging another cassette," Scavenger added, to which the other two Constructicons laughed uproariously.

"What are you doing here?" Soundwave demanded in a wave of metallic exasperation.

"Spying on you – for Megatron," Scrapper replied with zeal. He chuckled. "And Megatron would _love_ to hear about this."

It was an awkward moment. The Constructicons had caught him trying to recruit a soldier into his own personal service instead of into the Decepticon ranks. Soundwave was secretive about his cassetticon recruitment so that other Decepticons would not know the terms of their membership. They simply appeared to be new recruits under Soundwave's supervision as a matter of convenience, to keep the number of subordinates that Megatron needed to direct to a minimum. No one had suspected that Soundwave had the dubious intention of building up his own militia. After all, he was so unbendingly loyal to Megatron. That unwavering obedience stuck in the throat manifolds of the other Decepticons.

Megatron must have suspected that Soundwave was up to something. Perhaps Megatron had found a way to tap into his personal archive and found the new cassetticon plans. Soundwave doubted that the Decepticon leader was merely curious about who he planned to recruit. Megatron had never shown much interest in the deed before. Energon rushed through the Decepticon communicator's fuel lines. "You will tell Megatron nothing."

Laughter sputtered from Scrapper's vocalizer. "And who's going to stop me? You?" the head Contructicon challenged Soundwave. He pointed at the communicator's minions, who were still standing guard around Track's motionless form. "Or maybe your pathetic army of cassettes?"

"Yeah, even together they couldn't stand up to a single one of us," Scavenger growled.

"There are three of us," Scrapper concluded, and chuckled, "and essentially two of you."

That was the last straw. "Open fire!" Soundwave commanded his soldiers. As he fired his concussion blaster with one hand, he pressed his eject button with the other and launched Laserbeak and Buzzsaw.

The two vultures circled the Contructicons, firing wildly on them from above. Ravage seized the moment to pounce on Scavenger, knocking the Constructicon digger to the ground. Rumble activated his pile drivers to unbalance the other two while Frenzy and Soundwave pounded all three Constructicons with a barrage of laser fire.

"Enough!" Scrapper eventually cried out, overwhelmed. The plea issued forth from his vocalizer like a desperate gasp for air. "Enough!"

"Desist!" Soundwave droned.

Rumble looked up from the ground and halted his pile driver rams. Laserbeak landed on Soundwave's raised forearm and Buzzsaw settled on the communicator's shoulder. They folded their wings back and waited for their master's next command.

Soundwave chuckled at the three Constructicons. "Soundwave is supreme," he stated triumphantly.

Bonecrusher and Scavenger looked to Scrapper to command a comeback. Scrapper paused in thought as the Decepticon communicator gloated over his tactical victory.

"We aren't gonna just take that, are we?" Scavenger inquired in a slighted tone.

"Of course not," Scrapper answered firmly. "We'll put our differing capabilities to a test," he stated to Soundwave. "You and your cassettes versus us three Constructicons."

"You have already proven yourself to be no match for me," Soundwave responded insolently.

"It will be a different kind of test than that, one far more prestigious," Scrapper insisted, taking great pleasure in snubbing Soundwave's attempted superiority. "While watching you, we noticed that the Autobots were playing a game of 'hide and seek' in the city," Scrapper mentioned casually. "How about we play their game with them? We will seek them out, instead of one of their own."

Everyone smiled at the thought of engaging the Autobots in a game that they did not expect to be playing.

"Great idea!" Scavenger bubbled with enthusiasm. "I _love_ looking for things!"

"The winner shall decide who is superior," Scrapper stated, pointing at himself. "And the superior Decepticon shall decide what information Megatron hears."

Soundwave's cassetticons gathered close to their master and waited for his orders. The rain poured down over them as Soundwave paused in thought, considering the challenge.

Behind them, Tracks carefully edged toward the other end of the parking lot, desperately hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. He had taken a number of direct hits and was unsure if he was able to transform. There was also the dire matter of Soundwave's intelligence on him. He was in a bind on that one, unsure of what to do. But his greatest fear was Soundwave's diabolical scheme to corrupt him as a casseticon. That would certainly come to pass if he was unable to escape from the communicator's clutches. There was no doubt in Tracks' mind that Soundwave would viciously reprogram him.

"I think Soundwave's not up to it," Scavenger cackled to the other Constructicons.

"He's up to it," Rumble responded with the distinctive sneer of true street punk. He glanced up at the tall, dark communicator towering over him. "Aren't you?"

Frenzy stroked Ravage's head, which seemed to appease the cat's aggression.

"Challenge accepted," Soundwave agreed at last.

"Good," Scrapper concurred, most pleased by the decision. Then he swiftly made a move for his weapon. He snatched it out of subspace, swung it in Soundwave's direction and let off three quick blasts.

Soundwave covered his head and ducked with his blaster still in hand. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw lifted off and hovered at a safe height above. Seconds later, when the firing was over, he straightened again and his robotic vultures returned to land on him. The shots had missed him completely. Before he could demand an explanation from Scrapper, he heard Tracks groan behind him. He abruptly turned to see the Autobot collapse on the pavement, vapor from the three shots streaming into the air above the still form.

A thin wisp of water vapor also trailed from the heated end of Scrapper's gun. "I believe that's one for us," the head Constructicon stated, looking to each of his companions for their support. The other two jostled each other in celebration.

Soundwave pointed defiantly at Scrapper. "Soundwave's catch is not to be poached."

"Or you'll be...toast," Rumble added to the end to make the two statements rhyme. Frenzy glared at him for sounding foolish with his choice of words. Rumble shrugged with his palms raised, but Soundwave ignored the comment.

"He almost got away on you, Soundwave," Bonecrusher scolded the communicator.

"He wasn't goin' anywhere with us around," Frenzy piped in. "You ain't gonna take this Autobot from Soundwave." Ravage growled in agreement.

"Yeah," Rumble agreed defiantly in Soundwave's defense.

Growing tired of the squabbling, Scrapper impatiently flicked his hand in the air. "No matter," the Constructicon glared at Soundwave. "Have him. It is only one Autobot. By the end of the night, we Constructicons will have caught more Autobots than you."

He leapt into the air and night closed around him. "Follow me," Scrapper commanded the other two Constructicons from the darkness above. They followed their team leader's orders and also took to the sky. "We have a game to play!" Scrapper's dry chuckle could be heard over the rainfall even after he had disappeared out of sight.

Soundwave turned around to Tracks, who was out of commission for the time being. He pointed at the wrecked Autobot and dryly commanded his minions. "Take him to the port." The city's shipyard would be a suitable place to detain Tracks until the morning, when Soundwave would return to the Nemesis with him.

***

The call beacon on Optimus Prime's cab console flashed persistently. There was an important incoming message. The arcs of water spray behind him fell away as the big rig chugged over to the side of the road to receive the communication from Teletraan I. Prime's air breaks engaged with a squeal and he came to a full stop. His windshield wipers swished methodically back and forth as the Ark's main computer relayed a flurry of code comprehensible only to Autobot decoders. The light display on Prime's vehicle console flickered as his data receiver interpreted the signal and the Autobot leader learned its meaning.

"Decepticons detected in the city," he pondered the message aloud. "I wonder what Megatron has in store for us tonight." Teletraan I had counted four Decepticon energy signatures. Unfortunately, the Ark's main computer could not pinpoint their locations or get a read on who they were. The inclement weather was interfering with their signals. He turned up the sensitivity of his periphery sensors and pulled back onto the quiet roadway, his grey trailer in tow. "I'll have to keep watch for anything peculiar."

He wondered if the Decepticons knew that Autobots were engaged in a training exercise that night. The Autobot leader doubted that the Decepticons just happened to be in town. Fortunately, his Autobots had the advantage that they were hidden. They may be isolated from each other, but they should not be easily found. That was the point of the exercise.

If only he could contact Prowl to warn him. Prime checked the strategist's communication channel, but it was mute. He would have to find Prowl himself. In the meantime, he would keep his radio open to listen for any Autobots that had been found and were leaving the game.

***

Prowl made a left at the quiet intersection and drove slowly through an industrial district. Despite the businesses being dark and their electric signs turned off, the bright orange of the sodium arc lamps high overhead illuminated the area, making it seem more hospitable in the dreary night.

The rain flickered through the orange light as it streaked down. Prowl had a hunch that someone was in the area. His wiper blades moved patiently back and forth across his windshield as he scanned both sides of the street in minute detail, searching for a familiar shape that might be a disguised Autobot.

He crept along the street, checking the dark loading bays of warehouses as he passed them. They were logical hiding spots. Parked semi trailers in the area also provided good cover. He searched, but found no one there.

His logic center nagged him to continue past this area and onto the next. Prowl drove further along the road, passing an occasional human-operated vehicle. He scanned the nearby businesses, but sensed that the gas station up ahead was the place where his hunch was leading him.

The police car rolled into the gas station. The youthful attendant inside the building glanced up from his book then did a double-take when he noticed that there was no one driving the police car. He stared dumbfounded out the window as the vehicle patrolled the perimeter of his building. There was no point calling the police about the strange sight. After all, it was one of the cops' own cars. They would never believe him.

Prowl sensed that he was very close, but still he could not see anyone. There was a car in one of the parking stalls. He surmised the old vehicle belonged to the gas station attendant. The strategist rolled through the gas bar, ringing the bell on the bell hose, and scanned the shadows next to the garbage bin on the dark side of the building. Satisfaction percolated through his systems as he recognized the black truck sitting there, dormant.

"I've got you, Trailbreaker," Prowl announced aloud to the other Autobot.

"Aw, shoot," Trailbreaker replied and rolled out of the dark corner toward Prowl. "How did you know I was here?"

"It was a hunch," Prowl admitted.

Trailbreaker chuckled at himself. "Well, I guess that's it for me. If you were a Decepticon I'd ask you for a last drink of energon before you wasted me."

Prowl did not see the humor in his joke. He glanced at the gas bar behind him and realized why Trailbreaker had chosen a gas station to hide. The faint gasoline vapor in the air would have drawn the fuel-hungry Autobot like a mouse to a piece of cheese. _Of course_, Prowl concluded. It was the only logical conclusion.

"There's energon back at the base," Prowl replied dryly to the black Toyota Hilux truck.

Trailbreaker paused. "Y'know, energon made from gasoline _would_ be nice once in a while," the big truck said before he rolled away.

The station attendant's eyes bulged as he watched the driverless black truck pull away from the building, put on its turn signal at the driveway and then pull into traffic. A chill ran up his spine at the knowledge that the strange thing had been parked right there at the station for almost an hour. He shook off the creepy sensation just as the driverless police car appeared again. It followed the truck out the driveway but drove away in the other direction. He was glad that they were gone, but then realized that he was not comfortable working alone anymore. He looked around, hoping that a real customer would come to the gas station soon.

***

Trailbreaker gazed at the quiet city as he drove through it. The weather was not great, but between the rain and the late time of night, most of the traffic was off the roads. Trailbreaker liked that. He did not venture into the city often, unless Prime wanted him to, because he hated the crowds. The worst part of being in amongst a whole bunch of people was getting stuck in rush hour traffic.

But it was not that he liked to be alone. Trailbreaker just needed his space. He supposed no one would notice if he did not return to the base immediately, so he decided to make the most out of the tranquil night and take a scenic route back through the city. The rain did not bother him at all.

Trailbreaker headed towards the nearest bridge, thinking he would make a loop past Forest Park before crossing the river again and heading back to the base. But he had not gone very far before the silhouette of an animal on the road ahead surprised him. _Coyote_, he thought, and immediately slammed on his brakes. He had never seen one pause on a roadway like that before, standing frozen in the blinding glare of his headlights.

His bulk lurched forward as he skidded a short distance along the wet pavement, but Trailbreaker stopped in time to avoid hitting it. The rain danced in his headlight beams. Closer now, Trailbreaker got a good look at the animal whose life he had just saved. Its eyes glowed red in the darkness and its metal body glistened from the rainwater coating it. It was none other than the Deception cat, Ravage.

"What's Ravage doing here?" Trailbreaker asked himself.

With a menacing growl, the metal cat prowled toward him.

The distinctive sound of two feet landing on the pavement behind him caught Trailbreaker's attention and his sensors saw Soundwave land and then catch his cassetticon bird, Laserbeak on his forearm.

"What?" Trailbreaker cried. "Soundwave, too?" He began transforming into robot mode so that he could defend himself from the three Decepticons, but Soundwave quickly fired his concussion blaster at the black truck. A wave of static electricity coursed through Trailbreaker's circuits. His mechanisms struggled to finish their transformation sequence.

Soundwave laughed in his booming metallic voice and fired another paralyzing blast at Trailbreaker. He had barely finished transforming before Soundwave's concussion blasts seized his mechanisms.

"Can't move," Trailbreaker said, forcing the words through his vocalizer.

"Soundwave: two," Soundwave triumphantly broadcast his own score, and then finished in a lower pitch, "Constructicons: zero."

Laserbeak alighted on Soundwave's arm and the communicator picked up the paralyzed Trailbreaker. He took off into the sky with Ravage and Laserbeak, his Autobot catch in tow. They headed back to the collection area at the port.

***

Trailbreaker's tail lights had disappeared over a small rise in the road as Prowl travelled away from the gas station in the opposite direction. The patrol car made a right and headed up to the bordering commercial area. A few of the restaurants and gas stations there were open, although there were few patrons on such a cold, wet night.

Prowl casually drove along the main drag, considering who to look for next. He had been looking for Huffer when he got the hunch and found Trailbreaker instead. Prowl figured that Huffer would naturally choose to hide in the industrial district, but he could not find him there. Perhaps the minibot had chosen an uncharacteristically difficult hiding spot instead. He would have to think over the possibilities then come back and make a second sweep of the industrial district later.

Bumblebee would probably also be difficult to find. His small size and experience as a spy would aid him well in the game. On the other hand, Prowl fully expected to find Tracks in the most sanitary, cosmopolitan place he could imagine. The strategist decided to save finding Tracks for later. It would even be a relaxing way to conclude the exercise. In the present moment, Prowl wanted a challenge. He wanted to search for someone who would be difficult to find.

Prowl wondered who, of Jazz and Mirage, would be more difficult to locate. Mirage would be a fool to hide his vehicle form somewhere obvious. Prowl figured that Mirage would be as evasive as possible to throw him off. Then there was Jazz, also a saboteur like Mirage, but a trickster as well.

Prowl decided to do a quadrant search for both of them. Back on Cybertron, it was a standard technique for recovering fugitives, although he would have had an entire search team to assist him. He would methodically check one quadrant of the game area at a time, starting with its perimeter and then close in toward its center. Chances were that he would at least find some clue as to how they had chosen to disguise themselves, and he may just get lucky and find one of the other Autobots at the same time.

The Fairlady police car directed his search toward the north-eastern section of the game area. He crossed over the Interstate and took the nearest bridge over the river that divided the city. At the perimeter of Portland's Chinatown, Prowl slowed down to cruise the streets. There were no humans anywhere to be seen. Only the occasional lighted apartment window above the shops overlooking the city streets below indicated that human beings inhabited the area. Rain water cascading off the storefront canopies beat on the sidewalk in a noisy chorus. The cold fluid swept down through the night and collected into channels running down the sides of the street towards the gutters.

Prowl systematically scanned the alleys between the close buildings. They were dark and lonely, without even signs of organic life. He put little effort into searching the ones that were too tight for an Autobot to pass through or those that were barricaded by large, steel garbage bins. He made the first circle of the perimeter without any success and quickly began searching in a tighter ring.

The police car cruised through several blocks, searching. Up ahead of him in the next block, a garbage truck was busily going about emptying the local business garbage bins. Prowl paid it no attention and continued sweeping the alleyways. Just as he came up to the next intersection, though, something unusual off to the left caught his attention. He lifted his scanner and caught a glimpse of Mirage. The blue and white robot looked back at him.

Then the garbage truck barrelled down the street between them. With the large truck in the way, Prowl lost sight of Mirage. Frustrated, Prowl almost transformed into robot mode right there to go after the Autobot. But he resisted the temptation and remained in vehicle mode, rolling forward to reopen his full line of sight.

When the garbage truck was finally behind him, Mirage was gone. Prowl quickly approached the place where he had seen him, but there was no sign of the Autobot. The garbage truck gave Mirage enough time to activate his electro-disruptor and vanish. But Mirage could not have gone far, so Prowl thoroughly checked his surroundings.

Prowl now knew that Mirage had opted to hide in robot mode instead of in vehicle mode. It was a clever decision, but not a perfect one. The flaw in Mirage's ploy to use his invisibility to conceal him was that his electro-disruptor could not disguise the rain bouncing off him. All Prowl needed to do was look for the outline of an Autobot in the light from the street lamps.

Prowl checked and re-checked the area nearby, but still there was no sign of Mirage. _How could Mirage have disappeared so perfectly?_ Did he misunderstand how Mirage's electro-disruptor worked? _No, that's not the problem, _thought Prowl. He was certain that he should be able to see Mirage's outline. If only that garbage truck had not blocked his line of sight!

The garbage truck…_that was it!_ Prowl pulled a hard U-turn. Mirage must have become invisible, moved behind the garbage truck, and then escaped by catching a ride with the vehicle. The garbage truck was sturdy enough to take the slight Autobot's weight. The human driver would not even have noticed Mirage's extra weight. The garbage truck would also have disguised his outline in the rain.

Prowl had to find that truck. He followed the road in the direction the garbage truck had gone, aware that Mirage could have disembarked at any point. Prowl kept his sensors searching for the Autobot's form as he turned through a late amber light and proceeded quickly down the next two blocks.

Along the stretch of road behind the strategist, a pair of headlights sped up in pursuit. A moment later the light bar on top of the approaching car flashed telltale red and blue. Seeing the city police car behind him, Prowl slowed and then stopped by the side of the road. He knew that he should not have taken that yellow light, but he was in a hurry to find Mirage and there was no one else on the road. Prowl silently cursed himself for being caught for a traffic violation. Mirage was now as good as gone.

The city police car stopped behind Prowl with its rotating beacon lights still flashing. Prowl waited in vehicle mode as the officer turned his vehicle interior light on and spent several minutes working on something in his car. Then the officer did up his coat, donned his hat and got out of his vehicle into the pouring rain.

The human approached Prowl with a cautious hand on the gun holstered at his hip. When he reached the front of his vehicle the police officer addressed Prowl.

"Step out of the vehicle," the police officer commanded him.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Prowl responded truthfully.

The police officer withdrew his piece from its holster and aimed it at the driver's side of the unusual patrol car he had stopped. "Step out, now," he demanded. He knew the driver was trying to hide from him because he could not see anyone in the driver's seat.

"Sir, I told you," Prowl tried to explain, but the officer cut him off in mid-sentence.

"If you do not step out of the vehicle I will be forced to place you under arrest," the officer explained to the invisible driver. "Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."

"Look, I'm sorry I ran that light back there," Prowl apologized.

"This is not about a light," the officer explained. "You are impersonating a police officer, mister. And that's an offense." He re-gripped his gun and held his ground, expecting the worst from the obstinate driver.

Prowl sighed to himself. "I think I can explain things," he said. "Please stand back for a moment, for your own safety."

The statement perturbed the police officer. "I'll be the one giving the orders, and I'm warning you. If you don't come out on the count of three––"

The situation had escalated far enough, so Prowl rolled safely forward, turned off his headlights and transformed out of his vehicle mode. The police officer backed his weapon off of Prowl in shock as the false police car shifted and twisted into the shape of the towering black and white robot.

"What the heck?" the officer muttered.

Prowl stooped over with an open hand, ready to offer a proper explanation, but a long stream of rain water cascaded off his car hood chestplate, pouring straight over the police officer. The officer instinctively backed away from the draining rivulet.

"Sorry about that," Prowl apologized and stood up to stop the water from running off him and all over the man.

The officer was speechless. He had heard about the mysterious vehicle-robots but he had never seen one before. This one must have been one of the good ones because it did not attack him. He put his gun away.

"I'm an Autobot," Prowl explained. "I realize that my alternate form appears to be a police car, sir, but I can assure you that I have no intention of impersonating a human police officer."

The man collected himself and pointed at Prowl. "Well, it's close enough to confuse a lot of folks, mister Autobot."

"Please, call me Prowl," Prowl smiled at the man.

"Prowl, then," the officer said. "I'll have to ask you to change your, uh, vehicle so that it doesn't infringe on any of our laws. We can't have people driving around pretending to be police officers."

Prowl felt unnecessarily on the defensive to explain himself. "I can't impersonate an officer. I don't have a driver."

"Your car is the problem, Prowl," the police officer stated firmly.

"But I am the car, officer," Prowl replied politely. He was working over his knowledge of human laws as he spoke, and found a flaw in the officer's logic. "As the vehicle, I'm technically not able to impersonate a human police officer. And vehicles can't be charged with crimes. So, I don't think you have a case against me."

The officer stared at the towering Autobot, considering the logic of his argument. Prowl looked back at him with an expressionless face plate.

"Well, uh," the officer faltered as he thought about it. The logic made sense, legally. There might be a loophole in the law that needed to be closed. "I guess you can go then," he said reluctantly. "But consider this a warning. And don't turn those lights of yours on."

"It's alright," Prowl reassured the police officer. "They only go on in emergencies."

The officer was puzzled as to what kind of emergency a robot might have, but he did not pursue the matter at the moment. He was getting soaked by the rain.

Prowl stepped back from the man and transformed back into vehicle form. The police officer held his hat on his head as he watched the amazing sight. Prowl came to rest on his four tires, turned on his engine and drove away.

When Prowl was gone, the officer let out a big sigh and wondered if he had made the right call. The red and blue lights from his patrol car pulsed over him. He would have to see what his fellow officers' take was on that Autobot police car. He went back to his vehicle to get out of the rain – and warm up.

Prowl forgot the incident with the police officer the moment he drove away. After all, he was in the middle of an Autobot training exercise and had to get back to business. He quickly patrolled the remainder of the quadrant out of a sense that he needed to complete what he had started, though he knew that the circular sweep had occurred too slowly to have produced results. He then drove down by the river, where he transformed into robot mode to look across the water at the other area of city that was included the game.

The quiet, lighted other half appeared peaceful from across the water. Traffic was light on the freeway and bridges. The waterway was quiet, too, on that rainy night. The image caused Prowl to briefly imagine what it would be like to be home on a peaceful Cybertron, like the one he remembered so long ago. He hoped he would see those times again.

The strategist sensed his mind was wandering so he brought his attention back to the task at hand. His job was to find the Autobots hiding from him, and he did not want to make the exercise easy for them by pausing to relax. He dropped his gaze from the lighted buildings in the distance to the river's surface. The falling rain broke the city's reflection on its surface with its mesmerizing dance.

The inky river flowed silently in the darkness of night. Prowl weighed the possibility that one of the Autobots would have submerged himself to hide. It was conceivable, but he doubted that it was worth it to remain underwater for six to eight hours when there were better – and drier – places to hide. Besides, river mud was not easy to clean from one's joints.

Prowl gazed again for a moment at the city lights reflected on the water. He told himself that he should move on to the next quadrant and hope that he had better luck there. He was just about to turn away from the river when his optics focussed on an anomaly in the city's reflection on the bank near the bridge off to his left. He tilted his head as he contemplated why the top portion of one of the buildings was blurry. There was no more rain falling in that area than anywhere else. He alternated his attention between the real building and its reflected image a couple of times before he realized why part of the reflection was distorted.

The strategist ran over to the shallow bank next to the bridge, pointing at the darkness there.

"Mirage!" Prowl called out. "I know you're there! I've got you!"

A disembodied voice on the bank sighed. A second later a glowing prism appeared in the darkness and Mirage's form materialized inside of it.

"You got me," Mirage resigned himself. "And there I thought I'd gotten away."

Prowl was pleased with his catch. "You gave me a good run for my energon, Mirage," Prowl commended the blue and white Autobot. "Well done."

"I suppose I'll be headed back to base then," Mirage explained as he trudged up the slope and onto the roadway, where he transformed into his vehicle mode.

Prowl stood and watched as the Formula One race car drove off in the direction of the bridge onramp. Then he too transformed back into vehicle mode to search the next quadrant. He hoped that he would find the others more quickly. The night was wearing on.

***

Frenzy reefed on the free end of the wire rope tightly binding Huffer's arms to his sides to make sure that the minibot would not be able to free himself, should he come back online. The red and black cassetticon then looked around the port to find something with which to anchor the Autobot to a stationary object.

Tracks lay in a heap next to a stack of large, steel shipping containers. He slowly found his senses and lifted his head to see Frenzy and Rumble adding Huffer to Soundwave's post at the port. Huffer's beaten and bound body was placed in a sitting position, but he slumped over to one side as soon as the two cassetticons let go of him.

Tracks tried to get up, but he was still weak from electron loss after being hit by Soundwave's concussion blaster. Above him, perched on top of a container, Buzzsaw cawed to announce the Autobot's movement. Rumble and Frenzy looked over briefly but continued taking care of Soundwave's business. Tracks' leg was chained to the containers so he could not go anywhere.

Something in the dark night air caught the cassetticons' attention and they all looked up in unison. Tracks watched as Soundwave, carrying Trailbreaker, landed along with Ravage. Laserbeak was also with them and jetted overhead. The red and black cassetticon buzzard set down on top of the container next to Buzzsaw and cawed softly at the other bird. Soundwave placed Trailbreaker with the other Autobots and then turned away to face his minions.

"We got one too, boss," Rumble stated like a proud street punk.

"Excellent," Soundwave commended his warriors in his pitch-shifting monotone. He swept his arm back toward Tracks, Huffer and Trailbreaker. "Do not allow the Constructicons to steal the Autobots from the detainment area."

"You got it," Rumble acknowledged. "Rope 'em to those containers," he ordered Frenzy, "so no one can raid 'em." The red and black cassette warrior disappeared around the corner of an adjacent stack of containers to look for something with which to bind them.

Trailbreaker's movements were wooden as he adjusted himself to remain balanced and upright. The power disruption plaguing his systems from Soundwave's blasts was severe. His vocalizer cut in and out as the power disruption rolled from one system to another.

"They got...you...and Huffer...too," Trailbreaker managed to say in halting speech. It was unclear whether the comment was a statement or a question.

Tracks looked away from the big Autobot and glanced up at Soundwave, whose back was still turned to him. He hoped to Primus that Soundwave did not say anything about his past in front of Trailbreaker or Huffer – or show them the key.

If only they could get away from the Decepticons, then maybe he would be able to figure out a way of getting the key from Soundwave and destroying it. Then Soundwave's data could not be substantiated and he would be off the hook. Furthermore, he could dispute any accusations by refuting the lack of evidence and discrediting the Decepticon source as untrustworthy. But the chances that they would be able to team together and escape from Soundwave and his cassetticons looked slim to none. All three were in poor condition, unable to help even themselves. And once Frenzy returned with something to bind them they were all as good as finished.

"How...did the...Decepticons know....we were...here?" Trailbreaker asked quietly.

Tracks looked back at Trailbreaker and frowned. "I have no idea."

Frenzy appeared again from behind the container stack, carrying a large spool of wire rope. The heavy object burdened the small Decepticon, who almost lost his grip on it before he dropped it on its side between Soundwave and the Autobots.

"Bind them," the tall, dark communicator commanded Rumble and Frenzy. Rumble started turning the big spool to let the wire rope off of it while Frenzy picked up the free end and wound it around his fists.

"My pleasure," Frenzy grinned at Tracks and Trailbreaker. He pulled the wire rope taut between his fists and stalked toward the defenseless Autobots.

***

Mirage's large rear tires sprayed water and road grease in a plume over his back half, making a mess of the part of his vehicle form that doubled as his robot mode legs. Eager to get out of the rain and clean up, Mirage chose the most direct route back to the Interstate. The faster he got back to Autobot Headquarters, the better. The weather was dismal.

His path through the city was uneventful as he mused about his attempt to throw Prowl off his trail by hitching a ride with the garbage truck. He had fooled the Autobot strategist, if only for a short while, and that was something that was not easy to do. Mirage smiled inwardly, feeling the prestige of his trickery. But still, Mirage wondered, how did Prowl know to find him near the river? He had hopped off the truck several blocks away and hastened down to the secluded riverside area specifically because he figured Prowl would not look there.

As he continued on, Mirage's sensors picked up an anomaly in front of him. Having a vehicle mode with no headlights, he trusted his sensory perception to detect his environment, but at that moment his sensors were telling him something very odd. It was as if the section of road in front of him simply did not exist. But that was impossible. Roads did not simply disappear.

Mirage assumed it was a mysterious glitch and drove on at the posted speed, ignoring the warning. His sensors elevated their alert as he proceeded. As the blue and white race car drove into the null region, the roadway beneath his tires disappeared.

Mirage hollered as he sailed into a deep pit. He was shocked that his sensors were correct and that a huge area of the road was missing. In the darkness, the race car hit the bottom on the far side. The impact crumpled and buckled his vehicle frame, preventing him from transforming into robot mode.

Stuck with his front end in the mud and clay, Mirage's rear tires spun in the air. He sensed a pool of rainwater beneath him and thought to himself that the hole was the worst road washout that he had ever seen in a city. But then a robotic voice cackled in the darkness above him, from the edge of the pit, and Mirage knew it was no accident. Two floodlights shone down on him. Mirage regarded the metal figure perched on the edge like a gargoyle, peering down at him through the rain with glowing red optics. The floodlights mounted in either side of its chest plate moved off of him as the green and purple Constructicon stood up. A digger bucket and arm swung through the air like a tail as the character laughed. It was Scavenger.

"You should have slowed down for construction," Scavenger declared to Mirage through a fit of laughter.

Mirage was confused. "What's he doing here?" he asked himself weakly. "I thought the training exercise was a secret."

Still chuckling, the Constructicon leapt over the hole and let himself down gently on his leg thrusters. Scavenger's feet splashed in the water as he landed. His floodlights cast their beams again over Mirage's wrecked vehicle form and the Constructicon went about salvaging the Autobot from the muck.

***

Back at the coliseum, Jazz sat in the parking spot he had secured next to two main doors that security staff had opened to allow fresh air into the crowded coliseum. The Autobot had revealed his cover to the guards watching the door and convinced them to let him stay. His stylish vehicle mode had helped his case.

Jazz was pleased that he had found an entertaining way to evade Prowl for a few hours, listening to the Guns N' Roses concert for free. While it was not a band that really jived with his musical tastes, Jazz was not about to be picky when the price was right. So he kicked back and enjoyed the experience of being part of the band's fan culture for the duration of the event.

But now the concert was over and people were going home. From the lane between the coliseum and the next building, Jazz watched as the crowd slowly thinned and people left in their vehicles. His cover was leaving.

"Looks like the party's over and it's time to go," Jazz said to himself. He would have to find somewhere else to hide for the remainder of the night.

He did not have any immediate ideas of where to go. Jazz started his engine and the white racing Porsche casually rolled away from the coliseum toward the adjacent street. As he approached the end of the lane and he turned on his right turn signal, Jazz heard a low drone of machinery nearby and noticed human beings turning to look up the street at something.

Curious, Jazz edged forward to see what everyone was watching. The noise sounded like it came from heavy equipment barrelling down the street in his direction. But it was late at night – far too late for any construction equipment to be operating.

Someone pointed at the source, around the blind corner of the building from Jazz, and shouted. "There's no one driving those vehicles. They're runaways!" he exclaimed with both hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the warning.

Jazz lurched to a stop at the end of the lane.

"There's no stopping them! Run!" another man yelled. He grabbed his girlfriend by the coat arm and pulled her away to safety. Umbrellas were lost as people everywhere began scrambling to get away.

With rogue vehicles running down the street toward innocent people, hiding from Prowl suddenly became a low priority. "I better do something so no one gets hurt," Jazz decided and pulled out of the lane and into the street, concerned only for the safety of the fleeing humans.

He emerged from behind the cover of the building next to the coliseum and stopped hard, caught in the headlights of two oncoming construction vehicles. A front end loader and a bulldozer were right on top of him. No sooner had Jazz glimpsed them than the bulldozer lowered its bucket, sped up and angled himself toward the Autobot.

Jazz started to transform into robot mode, but before he could free his arms from their vehicle mode positions, the bulldozer scooped him up. It knocked him off balance and carried him headlong toward one of the coliseum's large concrete pillars.

Jazz turned to see where he was going. "No!" he cried, but there was nothing he could do as he struggled to complete his transformation into robot mode before the impact. With a thunderous crash, the green bulldozer ruthlessly rammed him into the pillar. The bulldozer bucket pinned Jazz, crushing him against the reinforced concrete. The force of the blow knocked loose several large chunks of debris. They fell on Jazz before landing on the ground.

Jazz groaned from his injuries as the world went in and out of focus. He watched the front-end loader pull up next to the bulldozer and then transform into the purple and green Constructicon, Scrapper. The bulldozer then backed away from him with its bucket tilted and dropped Jazz in the rubble pile. As soon as he was vulnerable, Scrapper took out his gun and fired at Jazz to ensure that he would not be able to get up. Jazz smoked from Scrapper's blasts, keeled over and was still.

"Nice work, Bonecrusher," Scrapper commended his team-mate.

The bulldozer transformed into the robot form of the other Constructicon. He admired his destructive handiwork and smiled. Then he glanced up at the electric sign still flashing its announcement of the concert that night.

Bonecrusher looked at Jazz and pointed to himself with his thumb. "I'm into _Guns N' Bulldozers_," the Constructicon laughed at the Autobot.

Scrapper missed the humor of the joke. "We'll set up a base at the port, also," Scrapper stated, "to keep an eye on Soundwave."

Jazz listened to the Constructicons talking as he lay very still, pretending to be worse off than he really was. He could not imagine why the Decepticons happened to be in the city late on a dreary night. But whatever the reason, it was clear to him that the training exercise was off. This was a real engagement. He needed to contact Prime and the others to warn them about the Constructicons and Soundwave, but he could do nothing while Scrapper and Bonecrusher were standing over him, ready to render him non-functional if he so much as moved. So instead of radioing the other Autobots, Jazz opened his audio channel and broadcast the Constructicons' conversation, hoping that one of the others would have his radio open and would hear.

"It doesn't really matter who wins the competition," Scrapper continued. "Either way, Megatron's finding out what Soundwave's up to."

The Constructicon's voice came through Bumblebee's radio receiver loud and clear. Technically, he was maintaining radio silence. He was just keeping his receiver open in case someone did not stay silent, but said something about what Prowl was up to or who had been found. For hours he had listened to the soft fuzz of static over the quiet channel. But now the radio was alive with the voices of Decepticons.

"That sounds like Scrapper," Bumblebee said to himself, astounded. _But where was it coming from?_ He listened intently to the conversation.

"What are we going to do with the Autobots we find?" Bonecrusher asked Scrapper. He kicked one of the pieces of rubble at Jazz, denting the immobile Porsche.

"Take what we can for parts," Scrapper replied, "and leave what's left. They're no good to us functional."

Optimus Prime intercepted the conversation between Scrapper and Bonecrusher as he crossed over the steel truss bridge spanning the Willamette River. The discussion confirmed his suspicions that the Decepticons were up to no good. But now he learned that more was at stake than seemed at first. From the vantage point at mid-span Prime surveyed the city around him, looking for any sign of the Constructicons, but he saw nothing.

Over the radio, he heard rubble being removed and then the distinct sound of Jazz's vocalizer groaning as the Constructicons picked him up. Jazz was in trouble. For all Prime knew, other Autobots had fallen to the Constructicons as well. His radio had been too silent that night for it to be otherwise. Prime interrogated Teletraan I for the number of Autobots who had been found and returned to base, but the computer reported none. The Autobot leader knew that Prowl was good at his job and should have found a few of the team after so many hours.

The Constructicon radio transmission ended the training exercise and initiated a rescue operation. _Where to begin?_ Prime did not even know where Prowl was at that hour. The Autobot semi accelerated across the bridge, while opening the Autobot communication frequency. He hailed anyone in the city who might be able to hear him.

"Autobots, this is Optimus Prime," the Autobot leader declared. "The training exercise is over. Decepticons are in the city and have captured Jazz." He paused. "Can anyone hear me?"

The radio buzzed static at the Autobot leader for a long moment before Bumblebee's vocalizer sounded over the line.

"I can hear you, Prime," the minibot stated.

"Good," Prime responded, "but are you the only one?" He waited for any other response, but there was nothing. The silence was a bad omen, indeed.

"I heard Scrapper say something about taking Autobots to the port," Bumblebee stated eagerly, "and he also said something about Soundwave."

"The port," Prime echoed. Bumblebee had intercepted the conversation earlier than he had and picked up crucial information. But why were the Decepticons taking them there? There was only one way he would find out: by going there himself to rescue them.

"Bumblebee," Prime began, "I want you to find Prowl and any of the others. We're going to need all the help we can get. Do whatever you have to, but hurry, and rendezvous with me at the port."

"You got it!" Bumblebee acknowledged enthusiastically and left his hiding spot to track down the others.

Their conversation ended and Prime barrelled off the bridge and into the city, looking for a route to turn around. He needed to head back the way he had just come to get to the port area.

***

Prowl stopped in front of the gated car dealership, his headlights directed at the oddly placed car in front of the main driveway. The police car's light beams shone underneath the sports car. The pavement was wet instead of dry. Prowl's headlights remained on as he transformed into robot mode.

He swept his vehicle headlamps over the yard, searching for familiar Autobot shapes. Prowl knew that a human had not placed the car in the drive way because the dealership had closed long ago and it had been raining the entire day and night. The car had been moved recently.

"I know you're in there!" Prowl called out as he looked over row upon row of brand new sports cars. "It's time to come out!"

He waited, but no one responded. Prowl gazed down at the car in front of him behind the fence, sure that more than one Autobot would have had to move it to avoid damaging it. The strategist frowned as he realized that two of the Autobots had collaborated in contravention of the game rules. But then again, he had expected two of them to do just that.

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker!" Prowl called out to the hidden twins. "Game's over. I've found you. I know you're both in this yard somewhere."

The pattering of rain falling on him and the other cars was the only sound that answered the strategist. Through the silence, Prowl imagined what Sideswipe must have been thinking at that moment. _You know you haven't found me unless you can see me. And I know you can't see me. Tough luck, Prowl._ Prowl gritted his dental plates. Sideswipe knew that he would not trespass onto private property for a training exercise. Prowl could feel the energon velocity increasing in his fuel lines as he thought about the red warrior playing him like that.

Prowl took a step back from the fence and collected himself. He would not allow his logical facilities to be overruled by emotion. He had to think of some way to motivate Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to turn themselves in. As he thought, Prowl crossed his arms and leaned his chin against an index finger. After a moment, an idea came to him and his optics lit up. He spread his arms apart and called out to the hiding twins.

"You've forgotten that Teletraan I knows where you are. Your energy signatures are being traced!" Prowl called out to them.

Of course he could not check with Teletraan I until the exercise was over, but that was a moot point. When they got back to the base, their whereabouts would be plainly known and they could not dispute it. Prowl waited for a moment and grinned. They had made a blunder and the realization of it would dawn on them shortly.

"I could hold you two for trespassing on private property, and tampering with the cars," Prowl stated, tilting his head to one side. "That would earn you community service time for sure. But if you want to come out now and confess to your actions, you might be able to convince me otherwise."

The strategist panned his lights across the entire lot. The rain was lessening and it fell softly on him as he waited patiently. Then, from somewhere behind the showroom, Sunstreaker let out a long, loud curse. "_Slagger!_"

One side of Prowl's mouth curled. He had them. Lamborghini engines roared behind the building. Then the distinctive sound of rotating and translating mechanisms echoed through the night as the two Autobots transformed.

"Get away from me!" Sunstreaker yelled at Sideswipe, and Prowl heard the yellow warrior shove his brother. "You stupid slagger, I shouldn't have listened to you."

"Get off it," Sideswipe retorted sourly, still out of sight. "You listened because you liked my idea."

"I did not," Sunstreaker spat back. "I listened because you said it would work."

There was a pause and then a scuffle behind the tall building. Prowl could not see what was going on back there.

"You can do your community service time – and mine," Sunstreaker stated loudly. The tall yellow warrior stormed out from around the corner of the dealership's service bay with a piece of cloth clenched in his fist and an angry expression on his faceplate.

Sideswipe appeared a second later with a similar piece of cloth, balled it up and threw it at the back of his brother's head. Sunstreaker's head craned forward when it hit. He promptly turned around and whipped the vehicle cover he was holding back at Sideswipe – and missed.

"We don't need to do any community time," Sideswipe stated loudly with his fingertips pointed at his chestplate. "Look," he demanded and swept his arms at the cars around him, "nothing's damaged!"

"Sideswipe," Prowl said firmly to get the red warrior's attention. Sideswipe looked at the strategist, but then Sunstreaker stood in his line of sight to get his brother's attention again.

"Your slagging plan is making me look like a loser," Sunstreaker cursed with balled fists. "If you lose, fine, but you're not taking me down with you." The yellow warrior spun around and angrily glared at the car they had moved. "I should have expected you to do something stupid."

"Are you calling me stupid?" Sideswipe egged on his brother.

"Yeah, I am," Sunstreaker retorted as he turned back around to face Sideswipe, bobbing his head and ready for a fight.

"Sunstreaker, that's enough," Prowl told the yellow warrior, but Sunstreaker ignored him.

"It was those big, dumb feet of yours, attached to that big dumb chassis that––," Sunstreaker abruptly spun around again to face the sports car in front of the gate, "––caused _this!_" In a rage the yellow warrior swung his leg back, ready to boot the vehicle out of the way.

The situation had deteriorated, so Prowl rapidly produced his gun and fired a warning shot above their heads to get the attention of both brothers. "I said that's enough!"

Sunstreaker stopped in mid-kick and looked up at Prowl with an expression of surprise, as if he had not been paying any attention at all to the strategist standing there. He slowly lowered his leg, then crossed his arms and tossed his head in the other direction. Sideswipe glared at Sunstreaker, then looked at Prowl and frowned. "Yeah, whatever," Sideswipe dismissed his brother's rant as he passed Sunstreaker on his way back to the gate.

Sunstreaker had it in his mind to swing his leg out and trip Sideswipe, but he was a moment too late and missed the opportunity. Sideswipe jumped the barrier without incident.

"_Meh_," Sunstreaker dismissed Sideswipe with disinterest before following him back over the gate.

"Stop it, both of you," Prowl commanded them as he positioned himself between the quarrelling brothers.

"Talk to the guy with the problem," Sideswipe said, rolling his optics at Sunstreaker.

"You are the problem," Sunstreaker snarled and edged forward, but Prowl shot his arm out and held the big Autobot back.

"It'll be brig time for both of you if this doesn't stop now!" Prowl ordered. "This is a training exercise," he said as he looked sternly at Sunstreaker, "not a beauty pageant."

Just then a pair of headlights from a rapidly approaching vehicle shone brightly over the three of them. The characteristic chatter of a Volkswagen engine caught everyone's attention and they looked to see what was going on. Bumblebee raced toward Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Prowl. He skidded to a sideways stop on the wet pavement and transformed as fast as he could into robot mode.

"Guys, am I ever glad I found you!" the harried minibot exclaimed.

"Huh?" Sunstreaker snorted.

"What is it, Bumblebee?" Prowl wanted to know.

"Prime sent me to find you," Bumblebee explained in a hurry. "Three of the Constructions are hunting us down – and Soundwave, too!"

Prowl's optic ridges rose as he listened. He removed his restraining hand from the yellow warrior's chestplate.

"They got Jazz and they're taking him to the port with the others," Bumblebee continued.

"Others?" inquired Prowl. "Who?"

"I don't know," Bumblebee answered, shaking his head, "but no one else has checked in with Teletraan."

This information intrigued the strategist. "I found Trailbreaker and Mirage a long time ago. Do you mean to say that no one's heard from them?"

"Right," Bumblebee agreed.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at one another and smirked. A battle was brewing.

"Let's get the Decepticons," Sunstreaker stated enthusiastically.

"Right on," Sideswipe agreed amicably, forgetting their disagreement.

Prowl stepped out from between the two Autobot warriors. He agreed it was the correct course of action. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe immediately transformed into their Lamborghini Countach vehicle modes.

"To the port!" Sideswipe called out. Sunstreaker hooted his approval and the two Autobots revved their engines, trying to outdo each other by making more noise. But before Prowl could remind them that there were noise bylaws prohibiting such a performance in the middle of the night, the two Lamborghinis dropped their clutches and fishtailed wildly as their screeching tires propelled them through the city. Prowl sighed and shook his head.

"Let's find the others, quickly," Bumblebee stated. The minibot began to transform, but stopped and reversed himself when Prowl dissented.

"No, we need to get to the port," the strategist stated.

"But what about getting more help?" Bumblebee tried.

"We can't let Prime, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe take on the Decepticons alone," Prowl explained to Bumblebee. "They'll need our help, or they'll risk being overwhelmed."

"Whatever you say, Prowl," Bumblebee accepted and then transformed back into vehicle mode. Prowl subspaced his weapon and followed suit. A moment later, his police light bar flashed brightly. It was an emergency, after all. He and the yellow Volkswagen bug hurried off through the city to rendezvous with Optimus Prime – and save their friends.

***

Optimus Prime cautiously peered around a stack of shipping containers with his beam rifle gripped firmly in hand. The droning of vehicles passing by in the rain on the nearby thoroughfare had drowned out the sounds of his approach and allowed him to creep very close to the Decepticons without being seen. The Autobot leader's servomechanisms recoiled when he viewed Mirage, Jazz, Huffer, Tracks and Trailbreaker being held hostage. Four of them were bound. The fifth, Mirage, was a crumpled, muddy wreck, unable to transform and not worth their effort to bind because he could not go anywhere or do anything in his condition. It was clear that all of them had suffered at the hands of the Decepticons.

"Three Constructicons and three of Soundwave's cassettes," the Autobot leader quietly counted the foes. He surveyed the open area in amongst the containers, looking for anyone else. Teletraan I had told him earlier that four Decepticons had been detected in the city. Prime saw three of them – the Constructicons. The fourth must have been the communications officer; his cassetticon henchmen never strayed far from their master. But Soundwave was not out on the docks – _at least not in robot form_, Prime warned himself. The Decepticon communicator could be concealed virtually anywhere. Ravage and Laserbeak appeared to be absent as well. Prime pulled back behind the cover of the containers and shot a scrutinizing gaze around him. _They could be patrolling the dockside_, Prime told himself. He had to be especially vigilant.

Prime was confident that he could hold his own against these Decepticons, but he feared for his Autobots. They were in no condition to escape, nor could they defend themselves. Prime would not pursue any course of action that needlessly endangered them. He refused to engage the Decepticons without adequate backup – the risk was too great.

_I just hope that Bumblebee can find the others_, Prime said to himself. Of the Autobots who had embarked on the training mission, nearly half had been kidnapped. Optimus needed Bumblebee to locate Prowl and the twins. Even if could beat the Decepticons single-handedly, he would still have to carry all five Autobots back to Headquarters in his semi trailer. Optimus knew he was strong, but he was also aware of his own limits.

The Autobot commander stepped clear of his spying post. Crouching behind a long row of containers, he quietly slipped away from the docks. He did not want to blow his cover by making a careless radio transmission. When he had put enough distance between the Decepticons and himself, Prime opened the communicator panel in his right forearm. With his free hand he tapped a sequence of keys. It was an encrypted message that alerted Teletraan I to the hostage situation. Ironhide would know what to do. Satisfied, Optimus made his way back to the dockside.

As he drew closer, he heard Decepticon voices talking.

"So who do you think Soundwave's gonna bring back next," Frenzy asked Rumble in a cocky tone that begged the Constructicons to pay attention.

"I dunno," Rumble shrugged. "Maybe he'll bring two, 'cause he's got Ravage and Laserbeak leading the hunt."

Scavenger was fussing over his arrangement of Mirage, as if the Autobot was some found treasure to be polished and put up on display. He glanced back at the two cassetticons when he heard the comment. Scrapper and Bonecrusher were busy adjusting the rigging that held Jazz in place.

"This is hardly a contest," Frenzy gloated aloud. "The way I figure it, we've already won." Perched high above them, Buzzsaw cackled with pleasure.

"Don't be so sure of yourself," Bonecrusher retorted as he swung around to face Frenzy. "You haven't won anything."

"Soundwave's soldiers are nothing more than slaves, Bonecrusher," Scrapper spoke loudly as he shot a hard glance at Frenzy. "They aren't real Decepticons like us. They all started out like _that_," the Constructicon swung his arm at Tracks, pointing. The other Autobots turned weakly to look at Tracks and the blue Autobot shrank with humiliation.

"Why you–" Rumble snarled, offended at the comparison. He produced his pile drivers and positioned himself to shake up the confidence of the Constructicons. Frenzy launched himself at Bonecrusher, but the large Constructicon shook the small cassetticon off easily, sending Frenzy tumbling back towards Soundwave's Autobots. Buzzsaw cocked his head left and right, then glided from his perch and circled the commotion below.

Bonecrusher and Scrapper were thrown around like puppets as Rumble hammered the dock with his pile drivers. Scrapper broke his fall with his hands but Bonecrusher lost his balance and hit the ground hard. The hapless Autobots bounced where they sat, their dental plates hitting in time with Rumble's beats. Near Mirage, Scavenger crouched and steadied himself on one hand. Pulling out his gun with the other, he took aim at Rumble through the jittering sight.

Splayed on the dockside a distance away, Frenzy looked up and cried out to warn his blue cassetticon companion. "Look out!"

Rumble spotted the gun trained on him and adjusted the rhythm of his pile drivers, quickening the pace of the beats. The change in frequency threw off Scavenger's aim, but the hardy Constructicon promptly transformed into his digger mode and rumbled toward the cassetticon, his treads unaffected by the shaking ground.

As the motoring Constructicon closed in on him, Rumble tried to bolt for cover. But he was too late. Scavenger's bucket arm reached out after the little Decepticon and closed the distance. With a powerful hydraulic surge, Scavenger flicked the end of the arm and the bucket caught Rumble from behind with a resounding bang. The blue cassetticon went airborne. He sailed across the dock with his pile drivers still engaged, tumbling head over heels as he hit the wet ground.

Around the corner from them, Optimus Prime watched as the Constructicons and cassetticons fought one another. Two of the Constructicons were back on their feet and closing on Rumble and Frenzy. Scavenger swatted the air with his digger arm, trying in vain to hit Buzzsaw as the metallic bird strafed him.

Prime chuckled to himself. It would be a stroke of luck if they incapacitated each other and he was able to save the Autobots without any resistance – though he doubted that that would ever happen. Still, the Decepticons were distracted – and that was all the opportunity he needed. Without a moment to lose, he sprung out of concealment and hurried over to the Autobot captives. He would pull the injured Autobots to safety behind the protection of the containers – two at a time, if need be.

The five Autobots appeared surprised but relieved to see their leader coming to their rescue. Only Tracks still despaired. Not only had he been embarrassed in front of his companions, but now he feared that Optimus Prime was witness to the moment when Scrapper singled him out. The disgraceful comparison was too much to bear. _Would Prime and the others ask prying questions?_ Tracks' servos retracted and he frowned. Shame welled up inside of him. He wished he could undo the past.

As Tracks brooded in silence, Optimus Prime shifted his ion blaster into his left hand, and his right hand retracted within his forearm. A moment later the hand was replaced with an energy stub and Prime's orange energy axe surged brilliantly to life. Raindrops sizzled into steam as they contacted the energy weapon.

Just then, Scrapper and Buzzsaw took notice of the Autobot leader in their midst and broke off their duel. Buzzsaw wheeled around and dove at Optimus Prime, opening fire with both back-mounted laser cannons. Prime ducked as Buzzsaw dove down on him then circled away and back up again. He trained his blaster on the Decepticon bird and let off a half dozen ion bursts. Even though his left-handed aim was poor, the shots had come close enough. Buzzsaw turned tail and fled.

"What a chicken," Trailbreaker cheered Optimus Prime's victory as he sat, tied up, on the sidelines.

"Prime, watch it!" Jazz warned his leader as Scavenger transformed into robot mode and knelt down to fire at Optimus.

Prime rotated his torso away from Scavenger to avoid taking a direct hit to his chestplate. The Constructicon's first blast struck his upper arm. Prime quickly de-energized his axe and restored his right fist. Another blast ripped into his leg as he gripped his ion blaster in both hands and swung back around to sight up. Suddenly aware of what was coming, the Constructicon cried out for help and dove to one side, dropping his weapon. Prime fired repeatedly at Scavenger as he went, striking him with three of four shots. Realizing that he could not win alone against the mighty Autobot leader, Scavenger scrambled to his feet and fled.

Prime knew he could not afford to let Scavenger get away and regroup with the other Decepticons. He looked around for something – anything – that he could use to catch the fleeing Constructicon. Spying a nearby overhead winch, he reached up and grabbed hold of the hook. He yarded the chain off the drum and it clinked noisily onto the ground, quickly unwinding into a pile. Prime hastily attached the hook to a point along the chain length, then lifted the chain lasso and began spinning it above his head.

Despite being crushed and bound, Jazz chuckled. "Go get him, Prime."

The lasso sailed through the air and landed around Scavenger's torso and arms with uncanny precision. Prime pulled the chain taut and the lasso tightened around the Constructicon, jerking him to a stop. Scavenger fought back, but with his arms forced against his sides and his digger bucket caught at an awkward angle there was little he could do. As he fumbled to catch his balance, the Autobot leader yanked on the chain and sent him tumbling to the ground.

"Scrapper!" Scavenger warned the Constructicon leader. "It's Optimus Prime!"

Scrapper and Bonecrusher appeared from behind the stack of containers with Rumble and Frenzy close behind, but they were all very distracted and made no attempt to assist Scavenger. The rapidly-approaching roar of Lamborghini engines filled the air.

"Autobots attacking!" Scrapper yelled dryly through his vocalizer. The Constructicons opened fire on their speeding adversaries as they flew along the dockside. Then, with a heavy clunk, the Lamborghinis hit a loading ramp and became airborne. Over the top of the stack between the tall Autobot leader and the dockside, Optimus Prime watched as a red and a yellow Lamborghini sailed through the air, revving their engines as they went.

"Yee-haw!" they called out in unison, then transformed in mid-air and dove into the fray.

The Decepticons scattered from the onslaught. Rumble desperately tried to hail Soundwave with his communicator. "Soundwave! It's the Autobots! They found us and they're attacking! Come quickly or we're done for!"

Optimus Prime surveyed the battle scene, relieved that Bumblebee had found the twins and alerted them to the situation at hand. The two Autobot warriors were giving the four Decepticons plenty to deal with, so he re-energized his axe and set about freeing the detained Autobots, starting with Mirage. Prime carefully lifted the damaged race car and carried him to safety. It was dark behind the containers. There, the Autobot would be out of sight of the Decepticons, and safe from stray fire.

"Thanks, Optimus," Mirage thanked the Autobot leader, the console light in his cockpit flashing in time with his vocalizer.

"You're welcome, Mirage," Optimus Prime responded humbly, "but we're not out of this yet."

Prime then returned to rescue Huffer, who was still offline and vulnerable. He touched the blade of his energy axe to the wraps of wire rope tied around the minibot and instantly seared them apart. As the binds fell away from Huffer, his inanimate body went limp. His leader picked him up and placed him behind the containers with Mirage.

Off in the distance, Scavenger struggled to right himself and remove the chain from around his torso. He fought with the lasso until the sight of an approaching Autobot patrol car and Volkswagen Bug distracted his efforts. When Prowl and Bumblebee transformed and began firing on the Decepticons, Scavenger decided to roll away to safety – taking the lasso with him.

Prime watched Scavenger with amusement. The Constructicon could neither fight nor transform, but he rolled quite nicely. Optimus decided to let him go, and set about using his energy axe to free Jazz. After helping him to his feet, Jazz limped away. Lastly, Prime returned to cut away the binds that held Tracks and Trailbreaker. Both Autobots were still stiff from the effects of Soundwave's concussion blasts, but they were able to make their own way to the protected area behind the containers.

Concealed by the dark night, Soundwave touched down safely beyond the perimeter of the battleground. He briefly watched as Optimus Prime joined the four Autobots in their assault on the Decepticons before he sent Laserbeak and Ravage to aid Frenzy and Rumble. Not seeing Buzzsaw anywhere, the communicator remotely ordered his minion back into the battle. Then Soundwave saw Scavenger – alone – and crawling away to safety, albeit very slowly. He was tangled in something, but seemed close to freeing himself. Soundwave recognized an opportunity when he saw it, and approached the prone Constructicon. These circumstances were fortuitous.

"Soundwave!" Scavenger sighed through his vocalizer as the tall, dark Decepticon stealthily approached him. "Free me!"

Soundwave did not respond to the Constructicon as he had knelt down beside him and gripped his shoulders firmly. A port opened in the forehead of the Decepticon communicator's helmet. A probe appeared and angled itself toward Scavenger.

With dismay, Scavenger realized that Soundwave had no intention of helping him. "What do you want?"

"To free your mind," Soundwave droned menacingly in response, "of memories you do not need."

Scavenger struggled, but could do nothing as the probe reached out and latched onto his forehead. Soundwave emitted a short-range cerebral disruptor wave and Scavenger's resistance abruptly ceased. The probe then disappeared back into Soundwave's helmet. He snapped the chain that bound Scavenger and backed away from the Constructicon.

"What – what happened?" Scavenger asked in confusion, the fear gone from his vocalizer. "Where am I?"

Soundwave stood up and gazed down at the unsuspecting Constructicon. "Battle injury," Soundwave lied. "You are safe now. Autobots outnumber Decepticons. Retreat inevitable."

Scavenger looked back at the battle front and saw more Decepticons than Autobots. Doubting the conflicting information, he turned back to Soundwave.

"Where are the other Constructicons?" Scavenger questioned Soundwave, thinking that they could form Devastator and easily beat the Autobots.

"Decepticon Headquarters," Soundwave informed him. "We must retreat." Soundwave raised his index finger over his cassette door button, signaling to the Constructicon that he was going to recall his minions and leave. The ruse worked.

"Okay, okay," Scavenger hurriedly agreed. "I'm getting out of here!"

The Constructicon took off into the rainy night sky and disappeared from view. Scrapper caught a glimpse of him as he departed.

"What is that coward doing?" Scrapper hissed.

He and Bonecrusher fell back toward Soundwave, and the cassetticons followed. A moment later, at Soundwave's signal, all five cassetticons rushed the two Constructicons and fought to bring them down.

"What are they doing?" Prowl called out, perplexed by the strange change in tactics.

"They're switching sides!" Bumblebee announced.

"I don't think so," Optimus Prime corrected the minibot. The Autobots watched, bewildered, as Soundwave and his five cassetticon minions battled the two Constructicons. In the end, Soundwave and his minions subdued the two Constructicons and dragged them off into the maze of containers.

"Do we go after them?" Prowl asked Prime for direction.

"No," Optimus Prime answered. "It would be too dangerous to engage in a fire fight in such a blind area. We must stay with our injured until help arrives."

Frustrated that the battle was over so soon, Sunstreaker kicked the side of a container hard, denting his own foot. "Slag!" he swore and fussed over his self-inflicted injury.

***

Hidden within the maze of shipping containers, Soundwave stood over the two beaten Constructicons with his cassetticons keeping guard.

"You traitor," Scrapper scolded Soundwave. "Megatron will have your head for this."

"And your cassetticons will be scrap," Bonecrusher added with a snarl.

Soundwave laughed with a mechanical bellow. As he leaned over the Constructicons, the probe emerged from within his head. With it, he erased each of their short-term memories in turn – as he had done with Scavenger. His cassette warriors supported his deceit with perfect loyalty.

Scrapper shook his head and looked around to get his bearings. He remembered nothing after leaving Decepticon Headquarters late the previous afternoon. "What are we doing here?"

"Your cerebral circuits were disrupted," Soundwave droned, "by an Autobot weapon." He pointed to his own head as he explained their memory loss.

"Yeah, if it wasn't for us pulling you to safety, you'd have been finished by now," Rumble informed them.

"Soundwave saved you," Frenzy added.

Soundwave and his cassetticons looked agreeably at one another and then back at the bewildered Constructicons.

"We must retreat," Soundwave compelled them. "We are outnumbered."

Scrapper did not know how he had got into his present circumstance, but he was no fool. He was injured, but still able to fly. So, at Soundwave's suggestion, Scrapper ordered Bonecrusher to follow him in a retreat back to Decepticon Headquarters for repairs. He would try to figure out what had happened later.

Soundwave and his five cassetticons watched them go. When they were out of audio range, he praised his warriors.

"Excellent work," Soundwave droned.

Then he raised his hand over his cassette door button and pressed it down. The large chest door sprung open and he ordered the return of his minions. Each one returned to his Decepticon master, transforming mid-air before filing himself in cassette form within Soundwave's chest compartment. When Rumble, Frenzy, Ravage, Buzzsaw and Laserbeak were stored safely inside of him, Soundwave leapt into the night sky to join the Constructicons on their flight back to the Nemesis. As he ascended, Soundwave noticed that his forearm compartment had been knocked ajar during his struggle with Scrapper. He quickly reached inside to check for Tracks' signature key – but it was gone. Pausing in flight, he looked down upon the team of Autobots standing on the dock far below. There was no going back now.

***

Tracks and Trailbreaker emerged from their cover behind the containers and came out to join the others. Optimus Prime was working alongside Prowl, Bumblebee and the Lamborghini twins, tending to the injured in whatever way they were able. There was not much they could do at that moment, but Prime buoyed their spirits.

"Ironhide is on his way," he said reassuringly, "and he's bringing help. It won't be long now."

Tracks wandered a short distance away from the others. They had offered their assistance to him, but he shook them off. From across the water, twinkling city lights peered through the rain. He scanned the horizon, vaguely wondering where he would go. It was over for him – maybe not now, but eventually. There was nothing he could do to stop Soundwave. He was about to turn around when something on the dockside caught the light from the huge fluorescent lamps overhead. It shone with little rainbows, like a pool of diamond dust. He tried to blink the apparition away, wondering if his optics were damaged. It refused to vanish, so he walked over to it. At first he could not comprehend what he was looking at. As he bent down to retrieve it, a flood of relief washed though his circuits. He picked it up and smiled in awe. It was his signature key. The case was cracked wide open; its data core shattered into a myriad of hair-like splinters. He marveled at his good fortune as he turned the destroyed key over in his hands. Primus was on his side that night. He had granted Tracks a reprieve. Tracks clasped the key to his chestplate with both hands and silently thanked Primus for His mercy.

"Tracks," Optimus Prime said from behind the blue Autobot.

"Yes, Prime," Tracks responded with a start, quickly secreting away the broken key in a compartment, before turning to face the Autobot leader.

Optimus Prime approached him. "Is everything okay?"

"I've been better," he replied. He could not meet his leader's optics. "My transformation mechanisms aren't working and my cylinders are sticking."

"Ratchet and Wheeljack will see to repairs once we get back to base. Until then, we should stick together. There have been enough unwanted surprises tonight." Optimus Prime gazed into the distance as he finished his sentence.

Tracks glanced up at the tall Autobot leader. He was off the hook and the others would never know of his past. Only Primus knew of his deeds.

After a moment, Optimus Prime turned away from Tracks and started back toward the other Autobots. As Tracks watched Prime go, an intense wave of guilt surged up inside of him. Primus had been lenient, but his own conscience was going to hold him guilty.

He grimaced. At the very least, he had to be honest with Optimus. But that would mean exposing himself – _unthinkable!_ Tracks clenched his fists. He could not do it. He decided to say nothing.

Naturally, he was quite surprised to hear himself speak the Autobot leader's name. "Optimus?"

"What is it, Tracks?"

He looked up and made optic contact with Prime. "There's something that I need to tell you," Tracks admitted.

Optimus Prime waited for Tracks to continue.

Tracks displayed his palms before Prime. "I-I don't know how to tell you this, but––," he paused as he chose his words, "I wasn't honest with you about my past when I joined the Autobots. I didn't tell you everything." The valve in Tracks' throat manifold closed hard as he made the statement. That was it. He had said it. Now his fate was in the hands of Optimus Prime.

Prime put his big hand on the shoulder of the smaller Autobot. "Tracks," he said plainly, "we all have things in our past that we regret. But it is how we choose to move on from our past that determines who we become."

Tracks raised his optics ridges in astonishment.

The Autobot leader chuckled knowingly. "I know your past, Tracks."

"But… how?"

Optimus Prime tilted his head to one side. "Autobot intelligence, Tracks. The Decepticons aren't the only ones who collect information."

"You mean that you knew all along?" Tracks asked with wide optics. "And you still let me become an Autobot?"

"The way I see it," Prime explained gently, "is that I didn't make you an Autobot. You made yourself one the moment you decided to join. And your interest in joining told me that you were ready to move on from the way things had been before. There is no question in my mind that you're an Autobot." He took his hand off of Tracks' shoulder and gazed down at the Autobot warrior.

Tracks smiled then looked down. He felt quiet inside. After a moment he raised his optics again. "Prime?"

"Yes, Tracks?" Prime responded.

"I'm sorry," Tracks admitted as the memory of his past stung him, "for everything."

Prime nodded.

"I have to ask, though. How many of the others know about this?"

The Autobot leader placed his hands on his hip plates. "I consider this privileged information. Prowl and I are the only ones. There's no need to worry."

Tracks gazed past Optimus Prime at the Autobot strategist. Prowl dutifully went about helping the injured Autobots without the slightest hint of interest in his discussion with Prime.

Tracks straightened his posture, but one of the cylinders that controlled his torso tilt seized briefly. He pulled a face at the momentary hydraulic jam and gripped his back with one hand.

Optimus Prime leaned forward, ready to catch Tracks if he fell.

"It's alright," Tracks confided, "but I think I should go sit down."

"Fine then," Prime accepted, "but let me help you."

Tracks gave Optimus Prime a humble smile as he accepted his leader's help. Together, they made their way back to the other Autobots. After helping Tracks find a comfortable place to sit, Optimus returned to tending to the wounded. Tracks sat quietly in the light rain and watched everyone around him with a newfound sense of appreciation. He was glad to have such good friends.


End file.
